


Someone Special

by thekeyholder



Category: Muse (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dreams vs. Reality, Introspection, M/M, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-19 13:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3612273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is there such a thing as destiny? Do you believe in dreams? Dom and Matt dream about each other, yet they don't know anything about the person they spend their nighttime with. Is a meeting in real life possible?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story crossed my mind when I heard the beautiful song [Someone Special](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2NNVlwOHXM) by Poets of the Fall for the first time.
> 
> Originally posted between July 2011 - October 2012 on my LJ.

** DOMINIC  **

 

_Pick-pock-pick-pock-pick-pock._

 

I wake up to the sound of rain upon my sill, ever soothing. The world is dark and warm because I refuse to open my eyes. I turn to the wall and concentrate on that strange vortex of sleep in the hope that it would suck me back in the magical realm of dreams, a realm so large and full of possibilities that it can never be fully explored.

 

I know I dreamed of something pleasant and I’d like to relive that moment of unspoilt joy. Luckily, I soon slip into the so called alpha-state, a meditative place between sleep and wakefulness. Many people (artists, scientists) claimed that they “received” genius ideas while floating in this paralysing state because there was no barrier between them and the world of ideas.

 

_Glimpses of images run on my mental screen like an old and faded picture strip: lots of greens, kids running past me with the hidden aim of pushing me over, a silver umbrella is spinning and I get lost in its sickening swirls. Now I’m trying to find something or somebody, a frequent motif in my dreams. I see the reflection of a rainbow in a puddle, but when I look up to the sky, I fall and everything blurs._

_Then I am walking tiredly in an empty city and stop at a coffee shop. Bored, I look inside and I instantly discover the person I was looking for. My palms glue to the shop window, but my breath steams it up so much that I can only see the face of the mysterious stranger. His ocean- blue eyes widen as he seems to recognise me and he springs up, toppling his cup of tea._

_Strangely, the cup was filled with fire and it covers everything in the twinkling of an eye, me included. Interestingly, the fire doesn’t burn me, and the last things I see are the blue eyes which outshine even the brightness of the fire._

 

My morning starts slowly; I dress automatically which is pretty stupid of me since I almost paired my yellow jeans with a red shirt. Horror! I blame the dream for distracting me, though I must admit that I was always fascinated by dreams, even as a child. As I munch my toast and drink a cup of coffee, I ask myself whether it has a meaning.

 

An ancient Greek philosopher affirmed that there are two types of dreams: the useless ones which don’t mean anything and the good dreams sent by the gods and which _must_ be interpreted. _‘In which category does my dream fall into?’_ I ask myself as I’m lacing my shoes and checking that I leave everything in order. I have no idea yet, but the image of those pretty eyes doesn’t leave me throughout the day.

 

 

**MATTHEW **

 

“What did you dream last night?”

 

A question I hated even as a child. Whether asked by my parents, brother, grandma or sometimes even a friend, I grunted “Nothing”, even though I knew that was false. Everybody dreams, we just usually forget 80% of the illogical images we see every night.

 

I choose to display an irritated expression at the breakfast table to avoid the useless and endless queries of my mother and the lame interference bids of my father. I can’t help it, but they get on my nerves with their trivial conversations. Or maybe I shouldn’t have graduated from three universities in the first place. Whatever.

 

I step to the mirror in the hallway and check that my shirt is spotless and free of any creases. I put on my coat and stare at the pale figure staring back at me. My mouth is slightly curving downwards today and a few hairs are sticking up at the back of my head. Not to mention my eyes which are usually clear, ice blue, but today they seem so dull and they have acquired a steely tint I really dislike. I mean, blue is more special, did you know that only a few creatures can actually see this colour? Anyway, I have to hurry if I don’t want to miss the train.

 

I live with my parents in a small town, but I work in London at the Physics Department of the ImperialCollege. Oh, right, my name is Matthew. Not a rare name, but I guess it’s better than being called Mohammed, the most common name in the world. Twenty-seven years hang heavily on me. Hey, don’t laugh, in ancient Egypt I’d be considered quite old – people then died when they were around thirty.

 

I like travelling by train because I seem to think more clearly when I stare out the window, provided the compartment is not filled with bouncy kids shouting the latest pop song’s verses. But today is quiet and my thoughts whirl so fast. An average man has approximately seventy thousand thoughts in a single day. Me? At least double that. I’m calculating everything I set my eyes on: the speed of the car passing me, the gravitational power affecting a hanging apple (thank you, Newton!), how much pressure I have to apply to open a jar or anything that with a bit of mental arithmetic can make my life easier.

 

However, my secret passion is cosmology. Stars, suns, planets, even aliens electrify me like nothing else! I wish its exploration would be easier. My secret dream is to step on each planet’s surface, except of course for Jupiter, which is composed only by gases. Oh no, I shouldn’t have said that _‘d’_ word, now my mind will wander to last night! Matthew Bellamy, get yourself together and don’t wear that dumb face, at least wait until you arrange things with the secretary.

 

Miss Farlow, the abovementioned secretary, is looking at me with those huge eyes of hers. I swear, she’s like an ostrich: her eyes are bigger than her brain. I get the mail and sign some papers before hurrying to my little office. Its walls are covered with posters of my beloved stars and planets to constantly remind me of my _dream_. Damn! Damn you, capricious mind, for always reminding me of it. Okay, I guess the subject is inevitable, so why not? Let’s talk it over already.

 

So, my usual dreams consist of me revealing that the Queen is a reptilian, the world is being hit by an asteroid, me falling into a black hole or me being abducted by aliens; however last night I dreamed something completely different. I know it’s nonsense and that it was probably caused by the book I read yesterday, but it seems that it requires more time to be digested.

 

_I felt lost in the college building. More precisely, I felt like I didn’t belong here, so I ran out and my feet carried me to a park. An old man passed me, bobbed a curtsy and strangely, he dropped his umbrella. I grabbed it and wanted to warn him about the lost object, but he disappeared. The umbrella suddenly started rotating in my hand and the image faded._

_I found myself in an old cinema and I couldn’t find the exit. Suddenly, a movie started rolling and I saw a young, blonde man walking up and down nervously. In that moment I knew that he was waiting for me and I had to watch him becoming sadder and sadder because I didn’t appear. It was so terrible!_

_Suddenly, I was sitting at a table and when I looked up, I saw this man staring at me with such shining eyes! I was happy to have finally met him, but I accidentally knocked a cup over and set everything on fire. Even_ him _. But the flames didn’t do any harm; he kept smiling until I woke up._

 

Now, I don’t think that I should pay any more attention to this. On average, we have one thousand and five hundred dreams a year, so why would _this_ be more important than the others? Look at my life; you now see how it works. What is a glimpse of dream compared to the eternity of stars? What does a random image created by my mind have to do with the perfectly logical laws of physics? Nothing, nothing, nothing!


	2. Given and Denied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by another Poets of the Falls song, [Given and Denied](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K4ISFwQ5MIo).

** DOMINIC **

You know that weird feeling in your stomach you get when you face an unknown thing that you try to suppress in a dark corner of your mind, but which still gushes out sneakily? I must look like a silly teenager, smiling at random intervals, at nothing specific. All afternoon and evening I feel a tingle running up and down my spine… Let’s face the truth: I can’t wait to fall asleep again to see if my dream continues. I’m afraid that the excitement will prevent me from reaching dreamland, so I drink tea to calm my nerves. Oh God, this is such an interesting experiment, I don’t think I’ve ever been this enthusiastic about anything.

_ I’m walking along the bank of a river which changes its colour every minute. I’m looking around, but the surroundings seem so lifeless and depressing. I kick a stone which turns into a silver wolf. Instead of sheer panic, I feel safety as I look in the animal’s intelligent blue eyes and I sit on its back. The wolf gallops at lightning speed and I put my arms around his neck; the soft fur feels like human hair between my fingers. _

__

_ The next moment I find myself in a small place. The wolf looks at me; he seems to nod and disappears, little blue sparkles hovering after him in the air. I’m so confused and I can barely see, but I decide to have a look around. It seems to be an office, the walls covered with some shiny paper. I step to the table hoping to find more clues about the place. There’s a small astronaut on the desk and I start giggling, the walls echoing my sounds loudly. A moonbeam breaks through the window and illuminates a porcelain cup…the shock almost wakes me up. This must be  _ his _office!!!_

__

_ I have no idea why he didn’t appear, but I have to use this opportunity of being in his private sphere. Suddenly, there’s a piece of paper and a pen on the desk and I write a little note: _

__

“Shame on you for not coming. Don’t be late next time or I’ll steal your little astronaut…”

__

_ I wonder if I should sign my name, but I don’t know anything about this mystery man with blue eyes who invaded my dream, so I leave the note on the desk and soon fade into another sleep phase.  _

The next morning, I wake up with a slight bitterness in my mouth, like I could be tasting my feelings. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t disappointed by his absence, but at least I let him know that it was a mistake to miss our “meeting” and I’m eager to see if my note will be received. I wonder how could the stranger get it…will he dream about it? Oh, and I’m also curious if he really avoided sleeping or if we weren’t on the same wavelength? I hope everything’s all right with him, though. Oh my God, Dominic James Howard, are you worried about a man who maybe doesn’t even exist?! 

He _must_ exist, I know it! I read that the “strangers” we dream about are actually real people we saw during the day, even if we don’t remember them. Our brain is a wonderful machine; it registers everything we’ve ever seen and heard. As I walk in the serenity of the morning, I retrace the faces in my memory. Who knows, maybe I saw him in the library, in the city, or maybe we dined once in the same pub. But the most probable scenario is that he’d been in the library once.

Not many people believe me when I tell them that I enjoy my work as a librarian. They laugh at it, they think I’m joking, but they wouldn’t if they knew some things from my past. Books are…let me find the perfect words to describe them while I tell you the origin of my fascination. My grandfather was an avid reader and had so many beautiful tomes! He also placed comfy armchairs in the bright room where family members could read undisturbed by anything. How I loved sneaking there in the afternoons with a mug of hot chocolate or tea!

Books were always there, waiting to be discovered by curious eyes. I remember that when I used to step into our own little “library”; books would whisper unheard stories with their yellow pages, the titles written in golden letters so tempting and mysterious! The elegance of the leather-bound novels, the softness of the pages and the soothing, warm perfume they preserved – I can relive the bright days of my childhood whenever I work in the library. That is why it is such a precious joy to spread the love of reading.

I promised to describe what books mean to me, right? Books were and are my best friends, the reason to be cheerful, and the direct cause of my knowing smirks as they reveal their hidden secrets. Poetry books make me sensitive and heal the wounds life inflicted upon me. Don’t even get me started on novels, each genre has its magic…I think it’s understandable why I like my job so much, right? I blink a few times before I enter the building and hope that my watery eyes are not too conspicuous. I can’t help it, but every time I talk about my childhood, I get a bit emotional. I think I need to meet a “new friend” today; I’m sure that getting absorbed in another universe will make the day seem shorter.

** MATTHEW **

You want another true fact about me? Well, I’m a control freak, and that means I like to be master of myself. I don’t drink and don’t do drugs. I rarely appeal to medicine because all the chemicals alter the natural processes of the body. We live in a world of illusions, so why would we make it even worse?

Therefore, my decision to stay awake all night should not come as a surprise to you. I used to do it a lot when I was a student – I told my parents that I needed nights as well in order to do two degrees at once. However, the real cause was that I was afraid to sleep while my parents were snoring quietly in the other room. How could I sleep if nobody was watching over the house?! What if we were robbed or something?

You might ask how I organised my life, then. I slept in the afternoon until evening when I knew that my parents were in the house. When they went to bed, I started living my real life. I stayed awake like a little watchdog and I would study, read, and of course, on clear nights, I would watch the stars. It was a tiring lifestyle, but my organism got used to it after a while and I always made sure to sleep the necessary seven hours. By the way, did you know that a seventeen year old guy stayed awake for eleven days without a minute of sleeping? Absolutely amazing!

Honestly, I really enjoyed studying in the silence of the night and I think it was quite effective as well. The calmness was sometimes so profound that I often found myself absorbed in a good book or I just admired the stars scattered on the velvet gown of the night. I think I should stop here before I go in a poetic direction; that style is not really my speciality. I think I will start my white night with a horror movie which will certainly erase even the faintest traces of sleepiness in me.

At five and something in the morning, I give up the fight with sleep and decide to go to bed since it’s already dawning. My father will wake up in an hour and hopefully nobody has any intention of breaking into our house. For safety’s sake, I set my phone’s alarm to ring every fifteen minutes – that amount of time is not enough to reach the deep phase of sleep, therefore there’s no risk of having dreams. I don’t believe that I would dream again about  _ him _ , but I like to be sure about things.

* * * * *

“Matthew, don’t you have to be in class at  ten o’clock ?” Mum asks curiously from the doorstep.

I rub my eyes tiredly and reach for my phone. Hell, I’ll probably miss the train I usually take. No problem, there’s one in half an hour, but that means I won’t be able to go to my office first. I don’t even have time for breakfast; I just ask Mum to pack something for the train ride. After a quick shave, I dress up in the clothes I prepared the night before, press a hurried kiss on Mum’s left cheek while I grab the food and I’m out of the house.

I offered to be the assistant lecturer to the Cosmology professor who is an old, respectable man, and he was happy to have a servant puppy to carry things for him and other such petty tasks. No, Mr. John is quite nice, but you know that elderly professors tend to become lazy and bored of lectures. Luckily, I had time to buy some coffee before the lecture and I try to soldier on throughout the day.

It’s around four in the afternoon by the time I get into my office and get my well-deserved breathing space. I lean against the door and close my eyes.  _ Silence _ _. _ I walk to my chair and sit down while my brain makes notes of what I still have to do today. I blow on a dusty part of the desk and the tiny dust motes spread in the air; at the same time Miss Farlow peeps in with her silly smile. Forgetting about the dust particles floating in the air, I inhale sharply and, of course, my sensitive nose is irritated by them…and then the room is shaken by my monstrous sneeze.

A few papers fly off my desk and I hear Miss Farlow giggling while I’m blowing my nose.

“Bless you, Mister Bellamy!” 

I nod politely even though I think this is a stupid custom. Ancients used it first because  they  believed that breath was the essence of life, and when you sneezed, a part of your life was escaping. They also claimed that evil spirits rushed into your body and occupied the empty space, but by saying "God bless you" the speaker was protecting the sneezing person from those spirits. Superstitions!

I kneel to gather the papers while the secretary rambles about some event the Physics Department is supposed to organise. Suddenly, I notice a small piece of paper with unknown handwriting on it. I read it and my heart stops for a few seconds. I feel the trembling in my weak knees as I get up and if I hadn’t grabbed the table, I would have collapsed. Miss Farlow notices my fainting-fit and brings me a glass of water. I tell her that I’ll be fine, I just need to rest.

Finally, after my cheeks gain a bit of colour, she leaves the office. My first thought is to have another look at the little note I hid in my coat pocket. Surprise, I can’t find it anymore…what the hell is happening here?! I look everywhere, but it simply  _ vanished _ . It’s not that I forgot what was on it, but I’m not sure my mind can process this bit of information.

I can still picture the elegant, carefully written letters which also held a slight gothic influence. The author of the note is that blonde man from my dream, I know it, but how did he enter my office? I don’t forget people and I am sure that we’ve never met before, so why do I still have the feeling that I know him? Why did he invade _my_ subconscious and even my private place? What does he want from me? So many questions and I think I need to sleep on them. Ha, what a lame attempt at making a pun. But as stupid as it sounds, I think dreaming is the only way to answer them. 


	3. Not Their Time Yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little tribute to my favourite novel, _Crime and Punishment_ by Dostoevsky.

** DOMINIC  **

**  
**

I always say that I’ll be thinking about certain things on my way home, but I never ever do so. There’s always something in the city that captures my attention and distracts me from my initial thoughts: a funny event on the streets, a magical sunset over the smog of the city or just a random passer-by who makes me smile.

 

I open the door of my little garret and the first breaths I take of the scent of my home fill me with warmth and safety, but I also sense a pang of loneliness in my heart. I sigh with resignation and pretend that I didn’t notice that thorn hurting me yet again. Instead, I prepare a light supper. As my hunger’s been satisfied, I secretly hope that I still have a bottle of wine somewhere.

 

Luckily, I do. I sit on the inner sill of my window and look at the ruby liquid in the light of the setting sun. Precious colours show themselves as I twirl the wine and watch it settle again in the bottom of the crystal glass. I imagine another universe as I sip the numbing sweetness and watch the city lights. Maybe there, in the distance, is a man, possibly with blue eyes, thinking – if even for a millisecond – about me. In a better world he would be here and he would keep me company, but reality is always disappointing. Too much thinking for an evening and half of the contents of the bottle are gone too, so I decide to call it a day. Good night…

 

_I feel free again and find myself in front of a large door. Oh, this is grandfather’s house! I enter the library and I automatically smile. Everything is as peaceful as ever and looks like it did in my childhood. I wander among the shelves and notice that grandpa’s favourite armchair is occupied. Bright light is blinding me a bit, but I see a pair of legs propped on the arm and the old-fashioned shoes confirms to me that it is Grandpa._

_However, as I approach him something changes and I stop abruptly. The book is slowly lowered, but I already know who’s behind it: the stranger. Why is he reading in my library? He puts the book in his lap and studies me openly with interest. Well, that’s nice, but what the heck is he doing here?!_

_Ouch. I think he heard it because he blushes for a second, but adds with a smirk: “Well, I thought I’d give you a lesson about the impoliteness of entering people’s private spheres.”_

_He wants to look nonchalant and cool as his head leans to the right, waiting for my reaction, but he can’t fool me! If I’m good at something, it’s reading, regardless their nature: I can read people just as easily as I would read a book. The nervous tapping of the stranger’s fingers and that very slight quiver in his voice – which would have passed unnoticed for others – give him away, but at the same time make him more likable._

_“Besides, I’m really fond of that astronaut,” he giggles and the walls echo the sound. Why are laughs so loud in my dreams?_

_Suddenly, we’re standing face to face and I know what is going to happen next, I can almost hear him uttering the words and I extend my hand:_

_“I’m…”_

_“My name is…”_

 

But I wake up! NO! Oh, this can’t be possible; I pummel my pillow and curse. Why exactly then? Why? I’m sure it’s because of the alcohol, so I hurry to the toilet. It’s only four in the morning and I should fall asleep as soon as possible; maybe I will meet him again.

 

** MATTHEW  **

 

_‘Come on, stupid mind, remember! What happened last night?’_

 

I tried remembering, but some black veil always covers my eyes. I lie in the position I slept and I focus on the only image I remember: the moment I lowered my book and I set my eyes on his radiant face. Radiant _?_ Wow, Matt, you _are_ becoming poetic! I repeat that piece of dream over and over in my mind, but no results so far. I slowly get up and eat breakfast in my pyjamas. Luckily, I don’t have much work today, though that might turn against me: if I have too much time on my hands, I tend to over-think things.

 

Throughout the day I remember some details of the dream, but the image is still unclear; for example I can’t recall what happened after the stranger disappeared. _‘If it’s important, it will have to cross my mind at some point’_ , I tell myself as my eyes scan a document. I’m in Mr. John’s office; he asked me to help him with the tons of paperwork the board dumped on him. Suddenly, all the letters blur in front of me, except a few words which seem to burn on the page.

 

I read them under my breath, forgetting that I’m not alone. Mr. John might be deaf sometimes, but he heard me now and asks what I said.

 

“Oh, I just remembered a…a quote. I think it’s from a novel, I’m not s-sure,” I stutter nervously. “Something about liking strangers from the first sight even if we haven’t talked to them?”

 

“Ah, yes!” The old man’s face lights up and he massages his forehead to remember the name. “If I’m not wrong, it’s by Dostoevsky, maybe even from _Crime and Punishment_. I haven’t read his books in a while, so I’m not sure, son. You should check in the library.”

 

I smile and thank him for the good advice. Who knows, this might be a clue…

 

A bit later I’m walking in the streets of London, wasting my time. I notice a florist’s on the corner and I remember that it’s Mum’s birthday. I already bought her a pair of earrings a while ago, but some beautiful flowers always bring her joy. The old woman behind the counter greets me kindly. I look at all the colourful flowers and scratch my neck confusedly. Hmm, what should I buy? Roses or marguerites?

 

“Sir, may I recommend to you this gorgeous bouquet of yellow tulips?”

 

My eyes widen at the sight of the truly nice bouquet and an image flashes through my mind, but it was too quick to remember. I’m not sure, but the woman’s smile seems a bit sly, like she’s hiding something. I inspect the bunch of flowers and it makes me think about the stranger from my dream. While I pay for the tulips, I feel indignation that I have to call him “the stranger”. Why can’t I know his name?

 

“All in their time, young man.”

 

“Excuse me?” I ask, dumbfounded, horrified that she could know of these strange meetings I have during the night.

 

“Ali, in time,” she says as she points to a young man with Arabic features who’s just entered, carrying a large box, but I don’t think she really said that.

 

I hurry out of the shop and a glance at my watch tells me that I still have some time to kill, so I head to the library. Hopefully, I’ll find the Dostoevsky book I need. Usually, I go to the first floor to consult science books, but now I step into the elevator and push the button of the third floor where the “belles-lettres” section is.

 

** DOMINIC  **

 

I’ve been thinking about the whole “dreaming affair” and I came to the conclusion that these dreams might mean something. Maybe my subconscious wants to message me something. I look around: the library’s quite empty and anyway, my colleague, Morgan, is here if anyone needs help. I plan to go on the second floor where the psychology books are kept. I exit and go down the stairs; I hear somebody getting out of the elevator and for a moment I have the urge to turn back, but I continue on my way.

 

Chris, my colleague, is reading at the reception desk, so I go up to him and ask the big guy to show me where I can find Freud’s books. He’s a bit surprised by my new preference in reading materials. We have a very intriguing discussion on Freud’s work and I decide to stay and have a cup of tea with Chris since we rarely have the chance to talk.

 

** MATTHEW  **

 

Ever since I entered the building, I felt a shiver running up and down my spine. The sensation grows as I push open the glass door of the literature section. I don’t know what it could be, but I don’t have time to analyse it now. Luckily, there’s a free computer and I search on the internet a page of quotes. The third quote under Dostoevsky’s name is the one I was looking for and I almost pump my fist in the air as I read it hungrily again and again:

 

_“We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.”_

 

Wow, the professor was right; it is from Crime and Punishment. I read the book ten-eleven years ago and I know I enjoyed it greatly, but I didn’t remember this quote. I ask the librarian’s help and he leads me to the letter ‘D’. There are quite a few editions, but I choose the oldest one, the book which looks like the one in my dream.

 

** DOMINIC  **

 

With two books in my hand, I climb back to the third floor. The elevator’s doors are closing and I frown. I don’t know why, but there’s something unusual in the air. As I open the door and the warm air hits my face, my nostrils dilate. It’s this scent…this familiar and pleasant perfume lingering in the atmosphere and I take deep breaths as I close my eyes. Wood essence and spices, a bit masculine…it remind me of… _oh no, no, that can’t be true_ _!_ But it is the stranger’s perfume; it is impregnated forever in my mind…

 

I run to Morgan and ask him who the person that just left was. The ‘some guy’ and a shrug answer is not enough, I feel I might explode any minute. I take hold of Morgan’s shoulder and ask him again how the last person looked like and what he did. He describes exactly the young man from my dream…I feel like pulling out my hair; my tongue can’t move fast enough to give voice to my restless thoughts:

 

“Okay, tell me what did he do? Did he borrow any books? Did he say anything else?”

 

Morgan shows me the computer the stranger used and I also learn that he borrowed Crime and Punishment. Oh, I like his taste, that’s one of my favourite books! I check the computer where he sat a few minutes ago and I sigh ruefully: the chair preserved his warmth. The stranger was so rushed that he forgot to close the browser window and my heart stops beating for a moment as I read the quote he highlighted. I jump to my feet and without any worries of what might others think about me, I run downstairs as fast as I can.

 

I need to find you, blue-eyed stranger. I need to talk to you, I need to hold your hand, I need to look in your eyes. I need the confirmation that you are real…I feel like collapsing in the middle of the empty street. Instead, I just sit on the stairs with my head in my hands, trying to hold back my tears. We missed each other by what, a couple of metres? Three-four minutes? What kind of forces are playing with our feelings?!

 

“Would you help an old woman, sir?”

 

I look up; an old beggar is extending her open palm towards me. I find some change in my pocket and give it to her.

 

“It wasn’t time yet, young man. Follow your dreams.”

 

I gasp and want to ask the old woman how she found out about my problem, but she’s, incredibly, very far from me. I call after her but she only replies with a “God bless you, young man!”, so I go back to Morgan, unable to stop sighing every minute. I go to the Dostoevsky section to put my fingers on the books he touched as well. Something on the ground catches my attention and I bend to get it. It’s a yellow tulip petal and I bit my lip anxiously. I think the stranger dropped it, considering the second part of the dream…

 

I ask Morgan if he’d seen anyone walking in with tulips and the reply is satisfactory: the stranger had a bouquet of yellow tulips. I don’t think I can cope with more excitement today; I tell myself I only have to work an hour and then I can go home. I go in the office to finish some paperwork and while I’m checking a bill, I remember that I once read about the so-called flower language. Each flower was attributed a meaning which also changed, depending on the flower’s colour. I type ‘flower meanings’ in a search engine and open the first site. My stomach clenches with excitement as I search ‘yellow tulip’.

 

I blink several times and I feel my cheeks flushing. My heart stops again for a moment and I feel a tear rushing to the corner of my eye. Yellow tulips mean… _“_ _There’s sunshine in your smile_ _”._ I smile involuntarily and hide the petal in a book. This night I’ll have to remember to smile more…

 

** MATTHEW  **

 

I choose an empty compartment on my way home; twenty minutes and I’m home. I open the window to let in some fresh air. The Dostoevsky novel feels reassuring in my lap; I brush my nose against the soft tulips and the breeze tousles my hair. I concentrate on the image of the tulips, these wonderful flowers which exist in more than three thousand varieties and are the national flower of Turkey. Come on, Matt, think about the dream! Blonde stranger and yellow tulips…then a string of images flashes in front of me and I shiver.

 

_Somebody grabs my hand and before I can protest, they jump in the air and we start flying so fast that everything around us becomes blurry. Until then, I couldn’t see my companion, but now I notice that it’s a fairy-like creature with red hair and a pair of reddish-purple wings. I stare at her until she tells me to close my eyes. We’re falling and I think I passed out._

_I wake up to the fairy giggling around me, bright sunlight preventing me from opening my eyes. A delicate perfume is brought by the breeze. I open my eyes to the most beautiful scene ever: I’m resting against a linden tree (the source of the perfume) in the middle of a yellow tulip field and as I turn my head to the left I see the fairy tying my hand to somebody’s hand with a thin, gold thread. She tied me to…the blonde stranger. Like a bucket of water on a hot day, great pleasure runs through my body and I shiver._

_He seems to have the same “problem” as me, his strong and warm fingers squeezing mine, and the contact increases the confusing tingle inside me. I hear the fairy cheering and I see her capering farther into the field, but the blonde calls after her, asking who she is._

_“Faith,” the answer and further giggles ring from the distance._

_Surprised by the reply, the stranger entwines his fingers with mine and I gasp audibly, the sight of his wide smile melting with the yellow tulips and waves of pleasure._

 

My pulse must be at a dangerously high level, but I’ve never felt this alive. I lean against the seat with a satisfied smile; after all it was worth waiting for the heavenly images and the sensations brought by them. Dear stranger, thank you for proving to me that dreams are an essential part of our existence. Dreams are slices of life cut differently and should be enjoyed and cherished. The night couldn’t come fast enough and I’ll probably check the watch every other minute.


	4. Holy Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make use of the four elements in this story. This chapter is the so-called "Earth dream". Many symbols and fantastic adventures waiting for us. I hope you like ancient Greek mythology. :) You'll also find some pics at the end.

**DOMINIC**  
  
  
What can I say; dreams are becoming much more interesting to me than life itself. The excitement I feel every time I go to bed – well, that can’t even be described! I hope this night will bring new adventures with the stranger; I’m really curious to know more about him.  
  
  
  
 _The sun is setting over a mountainous landscape but it’s still quite hot outside; it feels like a Mediterranean area. In the distance I can see a_ _settlement_ _. The sky is a beautiful canvas of oranges and reds; the white walls which reflect them seem made of gold. As I’m about to enter, a huge creature blocks my way and I recoil in shock. Wow, I can’t believe it, there’s this mythical creature called_ sphinx _(the Greek type) in front of me; a bizarre combination of woman head and breasts, bird wings and lion haunches._  
  
  
  
 _“_ _Traveller_ _, you shall not go farther unless you solve my riddle.”_  
  
  
  
 _I’m possessed by a mad fear because I know that if my answer is wrong, she’ll gobble me up._  
  
  
  
 _“All right, I take the challenge,” I say with more courage than I actually have._  
  
  
  
 _“If your guess is correct, you’ll gain the knowledge you’ve been craving for.” The_ _sphinx_ _smiles kindly, but I don’t trust her; they are said to be merciless._  
  
  
  
 _“Here’s my riddle: what is common between_ Arnold _, Victorian poet;_ Flinders _, successful navigator and cartographer;_  Barney _, contemporary sculptor;_ McConaughey _, actor; and_ Lewis _, contemporary novelist? The answer not only allows you the entrance to Athens, but it is also your source of happiness.”_  
  
  
  
 _I am left breathless…so I’m standing outside Athens? How great is that? Oh yes, back to the question. It’s not easy to appeal to your memory and rational part of your brain during a dream. I concentrate and concentrate, but I seem unable to come up with any solution. These people seem so far away from each other, not only temporally, but even in the domains they worked or work in. Were they born on the same day or in the same city? But why would be a date or a city be my “source of happiness”?_  
  
  
  
 _“Traveller, my patience is not infinite and I do not think that the question is difficult,” the sphinx urges me, but I don’t want to become her meal!_  
  
  
  
 _I scratch my neck and force my neurons to do their job…oh, come on what could Matthew Arnold have in common with Matthew McConaughey? I don’t think McConaughey’s writing poems in his free time, is he? Then, like lightning, the answer flashes through my mind:_  
  
  
  
 _“Matthew! Their first name is Matthew!”_  
  
  
  
 _The sphinx looks incredulously at me, but she finally liberates the entrance to the glorious city of Athens: “Hmm, very well,_ _traveller_ _. Have fun at the_ **Dionysia** _and make sure that you find your source of happiness before the morning.”_  
  
  
  
 _I thank her and look at her smirking face suspiciously while passing into a surreal world. I’m excited about the Dionysia, but what about the answer to the riddle? Dreams made me happy lately, especially dreams of  the stranger, but what does it have to do with M…oh,_ I got it _! I got it! His name’s Matthew! What a nice name, it fits him! Matthew, now I must find you!_  
  
  
  
  
  
 **MATTHEW**  
  
  
I always hated dreams in which I am thrown in the middle of a difficult situation, have to act spontaneously, and come up with clever solutions. Spontaneity is just not my cup of tea; I like to consider my decisions. Unfortunately, this is that bad type of dreams and it doesn’t look very friendly.  
  
  
  
 _There are a few stairs hanging in the air and despite my fear of heights, something makes me climb to the last step. I couldn’t go any further because something invisible is blocking my way, but suddenly a kind of a crossword appears in front of me and a voice tells me the following:_  
  
  
  
 _“If you reply correctly to seven questions, you will find out the name of the stranger from your dreams. You have two rights to mistake, at the third one you’re out. Do you understand?”_  
  
  
  
 _I nod. Damn jangled nerves, I don’t want to mess this up, I could finally get to know what his name is!_  
  
  
  
 _“First question: Swedish, Nobel prize winning physicist who invented automatic regulators.”_  
  
  
  
 _Ha, easy one! “ **D** alen,” I say confidently, and the letters shine in the air._  
  
  
  
 _“Second: traditional Japanese art of paper folding.”_  
  
  
  
 _“ **O** rigami,” I say quickly and hope that the whole quiz will be this easy._  
  
  
  
 _“Third: Roman god of war.”_  
  
  
  
 _“ **M** ars.”_  
  
  
  
 _“Norwegian playwright of the nineteenth century often called the father of modern theatre.”_  
  
  
  
 _Ouch, I am not keen on drama… “Bergman?”_  
  
  
  
 _“Incorrect! One more mistake left before the game is over. By the way, Bergman was Swedish.”_  
  
  
  
 _Shit! Think, Bellamy, think!_  
  
  
  
 _“ **I** bsen,” I whisper with terror, but luckily the letters appear in the air._  
  
  
  
 _Tricky little system, it won’t let me see how the words were arranged, so I can’t guess the name yet…_  
  
  
  
 _“Fifth: longest river on Earth.”_  
  
  
  
 _“Longest?”_  
  
  
  
  
  
 _“You heard what I said. I’m not paid to repeat the questions.”_  
  
  
  
 _“Okay, okay, it’s the **N** ile,” I say apologetically._  
  
  
  
 _“Sixth: the seventh_ _colour_ _of the rainbow.”_  
  
  
  
 _“ **I** ndigo,” I say with a smirk. They will never catch me off-guard at a physics question. _  
  
  
  
_“The last question: who was one of the most famous boxers in the heavyweight category?”_  
  
  
  
 _Damn! Why sports, why? I have absolutely no talent at sports. I always found excuses to not participate during P.E. classes in school; I did “mental gymnastics” instead, haha. Let’s see, boxing…I have two names in my mind, both very famous and hopefully the most famous. When I decide which name to say first, a weird feeling appears in my stomach, but I don’t take it into consideration: “Joe Frazier.”_  
  
  
  
 _“Wrong,” the deep voice announces my failure and even the sky turns dark. “You have only one chance left.”_  
  
  
  
 _My whole courage evaporated with the wrong answer. Although my other guess is most probably correct, I don’t want to be the victim of a hasty decision. The voice interrupts my train of thoughts:_  
  
  
  
 _“It seems the boss likes you a lot. I was told to give you a hint: this boxer’s first name is Cassius.”_  
  
  
  
 _How true, somebody must love me up there because my other guess would have been different, though it’s the same person. I would have answered “Muhammad Ali”, but that is the Muslim name of:_  
  
  
  
 _“ **C** lay. Cassius Clay,” I reply triumphantly and suddenly the sky becomes bright and I can finally see the following crossword:_  
  
  
  
 _“Dominic…” I whisper with reverence and open the door that’s just appeared in front of me._

  


[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/thekeyholder/pic/000bzh0x/)   


  
  
  
**DOMINIC**  
  
  
  
 _When the sphinx told me that I’d be let into Athens, I thought that she referred to the city from our times. To my  surprise, I not only_ _travelled_ _across miles of land, but also across more than two millenniums. I’m walking in Ancient Greece and will take part in an authentic celebration of the god of fertility and wine, Dionysus! How cool is that?! In the outskirts of the city, citizens, particularly women, are chanting and dancing, but I have the feeling that the real “party” starts after dark. I must find the stran-, sorry, Matthew, before then (ah, it’s so weird that he has a name now!)._  
  
  
  
 _I don’t know how I got them, but I’m even wearing a traditional white robe and some beautiful, handmade gold bracelets. I gape at everything I see around me, and after a long walk, I notice a temple with its doors wide open. I’m about to climb the stairs when a man, dressed in similar clothes as me, appears in the door._  
  
  
  
 _“Dominic!”_  
  
  
  
 _I tear my gaze from the ground and if I didn’t know who he was, I’d say that a half god made its appearance amongst the mortals. He descends the stairs with a happy smile plastered on his face and something makes me reach out my hands to hold his._  
  
  
  
 _“Matthew,” I whisper as we stare at each other and smile broadly._  
  
  
  
 _Our intimate moment is interrupted by some cheerful girls who caper around us and put on our heads crowns made of grape leaves. There’s something exciting in the air that makes me smile with my whole being. Matthew looks amazed at everything around us as we follow a crowd into the heart of the city and I tell him that we’re assisting with the Great Dionysia._  
  
  
  
 _“This is absolutely fantastic!” he says with evident joy in his voice and I look at the ever-growing glow of his face. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m in the 5 th century BC. I love the ancient Greek culture and taking part at such a famous event as the celebration of the god of wine…”_  
  
  
  
 _“And fertility,” I complete for him, pointing to a group of people dancing and chanting, praising_ **earth** _, the element which gives life to everything, including wine._  
  
  
  
 _We go closer and watch the hypnotizing ritual: the quick movements, the ease with which they bend their bodies and the fervent invitation addressed to the god to come and participate at the splendid ceremonies. To my great satisfaction, Matthew’s previously guarded features change completely as his body is touched by the vibrations of enthusiasm sent by the dancers._  
  
  
  
 _“Did you know that these rituals were meant to purify the soul and liberate people from every constraints imposed by society?” he asks me and I hum curiously._  
  
  
  
 _A man hands us two golden goblets filled with wine and torches are ignited around us, a soft, mystical light enveloping the magnificent city of Athens. I feel a bit lame that I stay so silent, but I know that magic is continuously tying bounds between my fascinating companion and me. We walk farther, following the cheerful crowd and while we sip the aromatic wine. I steal a few glances at Matthew while he drinks (oh my, that pale neck of his is too attractive!), but I also notice him doing the same when he thinks that I’m not watching._  
  
  
  
 _“Look, Dominic, the Acropolis! Come, I think we can witness an original Greek drama!” Matthew says, grabbing my hand and we run beside majestic temples which emanate the perfume of hypnotizing herbs burnt by the priests and priestesses._  
  
  
  
 _However, we stop for a minute in front of the_ **Parthenon** _. The grand monument – which, by the way, is intact – just simply commands respect with its imposing columns and shadows created by the torches which have been placed everywhere, just like grape leaves. The sight is so elevating that I place my head on Matthew’s shoulder. Luckily, he doesn’t run away; I feel a rush of heat in my body when his hand slides down my back carefully and stops on my waist._  
  
  
  
 _I mirror his position and that’s how we go to the_ **Theatre of Dionysus** _. Interestingly, we don’t converse much, but I feel as if I’d know Matthew like myself. Something changed him because I know that he wouldn’t have accepted before to sit so close to me. Maybe Dionysus did appear among us and erased the differences and everything that separated our souls from pure freedom._  
  
  
  
 _The rock theatre that holds perfect acoustics is filled with Greeks eagerly waiting for the play, which will show a scene from the life of the celebrated god. Miraculously, our goblets never run out of wine and it enhances the theatric experience. The chorus and actors invade the scene wearing clay masks and high-heeled shoes, so everybody can see them well. Even though I don’t speak old Greek, I somehow understand the words and I smile when Matthew turns to me, probably shocked that he is able to comprehend the passionate rejoinders. After a while, I am completely absorbed by the events on the stage and I’m startled when I hear his question:_  
  
  
  
 _“Are you enjoying yourself, Dominic?” Matthew whispers in my ear and a chill runs down my spine as I smell his sweet breath._  
  
  
  
 _The wine_ _colours_ _his thin lips and makes his eyes shine brighter. We stare at each other for long minutes; I sit closer to him and I let my index finger roam on his palm, drawing random patterns which I gladly notice make Matthew shudder. In a sudden moment of boldness, I lean in and whisper back:_  
  
  
  
 _“Every moment spent with you…is like a dream, an unworldly experience.”_  
  
  
  
 _While we’re still looking in each other’s eyes, the culminating point occurs on the stage and the waves of catharsis wash over me. Emotions couldn’t be stronger and I agree wholeheartedly with the advice given by one of the actors – celebrate and respect earth, the cradle of the most beautiful things because it always gives power to reborn, just like Dionysus is reborn every year. I slowly slip away from the realm of dream with the image of Matthew bending down and kissing the holy ground of Athens to the rhythm beaten by drums and bare feet of the dancers…_  
   
   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Greek Sphinx](http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3059/3104500567_40ba90b0ed_b.jpg)
> 
> [The Parthenon at night](http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/2c/ae/54/night-view-of-the-parthenon.jpg) (just imagine how amazing it must have looked when it was complete!)   
>  The theatre of Dionysus[Nowadays](http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/2c/ae/54/night-view-of-the-parthenon.jpg) and [how it used to look like](http://www.timetrips.co.uk/theatre.gif)


	5. A Glimmer of Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned in the chapter is [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=arg-TuFxmq0).

**MATTHEW**  
   
This craziness has to stop! When I wake up in the morning with the flavour of sweet wine in my mouth I realise that this entire charade has to come to an end. Why should I lose myself to delusional dreams? I will never have the life I live at night! The saddest thing is that I will never have Dominic either…  
   
I’m such a killjoy, but I want to prevent myself from falling in a trap, from hurting myself. Suddenly, the train compartment is filled with sounds coming from a radio station:  
   
“Now, we’re going to listen to a very special song, _Reality_ , by Richard Sanderson. Dedicated to everyone who is in love!”  
   
Ugh, how fun! I have to listen to a love song…when I hear the lyrics, I feel like the whole universe is conspiring against me:  
   
 _“Met you by surprise  
I didn't realise  
That my life would change forever.”_  
  
  
How corny! I hope this ends soon! But the delicate chorus is even more confusing:  
  
 _“Dreams are my reality  
The only kind of real fantasy  
Illusions are a common thing  
I try to live in dreams  
It seems as if it's meant to be.”_  
  
I swear; I’m going to ask the conductor to turn this demonic thing off! But no, the song continues and I feel like knives are stabbing my heart:  
  
 _“If you do exist  
Honey don't resist  
Show me a new way of loving  
Tell me that it's true  
Show me what to do  
I feel something special about you.”_  
  
  
I just…no, I can’t take this anymore. I put my face in my hands and moan loudly, unsure if I can bear to hear the chorus one more time. Suddenly, a colourful paper catches my eye and I bend to get it. It is an advertisement for the psychology office of a certain Doctor Kirk. It says: _“Whatever is bothering you, Dr. Kirk is here to solve it for you!”_ Hmm, the slogan is pretty silly, but appealing to professional help might be useful, so I bundle the paper into my pocket.  
  
  
   
 **DOMINIC**  
   
I woke up smiling, something that has never happened before, yet instead of wearing that smile all day, I replace it with a frown. Don’t get me wrong; I had the sweetest dream last night, but I don’t know if this is right. My stomach clenches with fear, so I leave for work without having breakfast. I don’t think that it’s normal that everything reminds me of him, a man whom I actually haven’t even met yet, in the word’s traditional meaning. I look at the sky and I see the colour of his eyes; the sun is like his bright intelligence and even the hustle and bustle of the city reminds me of his restless heartbeat.  
   
As soon as I arrive in the library, I go to the office under the pretext of doing paperwork. In fact, I pull out an old notebook and look for a phone number that I used to call regularly in the past.  
   
“Dr. Kirk’s office. What can I do for you?”  
   
“Hello, Gina,” I mutter in the receiver. “Dom Howard speaking.”  
   
“Oh, Dom, darling! How are you? Are you calling for an appointment? We haven’t seen you for quite some time.”  
   
“Yes, Gina, I need to talk with Thomas as soon as possible,” I say nervously, biting my nails while I’m waiting for the answer.  
   
“Oh, I hope it’s nothing serious?” Gina asks worriedly while I hear her turning pages in the agenda.  
   
“No, I’m just confused about something. I know Tom is very busy, but could you somehow squeeze me in? Possibly today?”  
   
“Oh, Dom, we’re completely full today, but you’re an old friend, so I guess Dr. Kirk won’t be upset if I schedule you at the end of his programme. Is five o’clock good for you?”  
   
“Perfect! Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Gina! Can’t wait to see you!” I sigh with relief as I put down the receiver.  
   
Yes, I’m appealing to professional help and as you could tell, it’s not my first time. I had difficult periods in my life before and I learned that going to a psychologist is much better than fretting to oneself in a dark corner. I had my doubts at first, but Tom is a great man who knows his job. However, I’m still antsy because this time we’re talking about an unusual issue. I hope Tom won’t think that I’ve become completely nuts…  
   
 **MATTHEW**  
   
My stomach was grumbling tragic tunes by the time I arrived at the university’s canteen. I buy the day’s menu and sit down at a secluded table. As I’m wolfing down lunch, I remember the advertisement I found on the train and pull it out from the pocket of my coat. I flatten it out and look at the telephone number. My fingers are itching to form the numbers, but my shyness kicks in too: as soon as I type a number, I delete it. A booming voice brings me back to reality:  
   
“Matthew, son! What are you doing?”  
   
It’s Mr. John with a tray in his hands and the sight of him startles me so much that I forget to hide the advertisement.  
   
“Oh, what are you studying so attentively?”  
   
Jesus, why does he have to be so curious?! I try to brush him off, but with surprising speed, the professor grabs the paper and his face lights up in recognition.  
   
“Oh, you want to go to Kirk? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”  
   
“Do you know him, sir?” I ask, dumbfounded.  
   
“Of course, he’s my son-in-law!” Mr. John laughs at my shocked expression. “Wait, I’ll call him and tell him that one of my colleagues needs help.”  
   
“No, Mr. John, it’s not that urgent…” I trail off, but the professor’s already holding the phone to his ear and waves off my protest.  
   
“Thomas? Hello! Look, son, I have this colleague who would like to consult with you. Are you busy today?”  
   
I blush, feeling a bit uncomfortable that this thingy’s become such a big deal! Moreover, it seems that Dr. Kirk is already working overtime, yet his father-in-law keeps insisting. Finally, the psychologist gives in and tells Mr. John that I can come at around half past five. I thank the old man; however, he doesn’t let me go before asking:  
   
“I hope it’s nothing serious? Are we talking about emotional problems? Is a mean girl making your life harder?” Mr. John asks with good intentions.  
   
I blush slightly but laugh the matter off, looking at the table while answering: “Yes, a girl…that confuses me.”  
   
I lied about the gender, but why should I complicate myself in telling Mr. John that I have inappropriate feelings for a man? I’m not sure what his opinion is about homosexuality, so I keep this information quiet. Honestly, I don’t know myself, either, because I’ve never had to cudgel my brains about this problem, but I trust Dr. Kirk to clear my confusing thoughts.  
   
   
 **DOMINIC**  
   
As I anticipated, Thomas was very kind and understanding. He didn’t think that my dreams were signs of madness, but rather of secret desires, buried deep inside my heart. However, Tom found it curious that the dreams are so fluid and intelligible – “like a second life you’re living during nighttimes” he had said, delving into his thoughts. We couldn’t discuss more because he had another patient at half past five and we heard them shuffling in the waiting hall. Luckily, Tom has a secret door in his office, so that his clients don’t have to exit through the hallway and they can’t be seen by others. A very clever thing if you ask me.  
   
Even though I couldn’t discuss this problem thoroughly with Tom, I feel so much better. I was really afraid that I’ve developed some kind of personality disorder. Tom’s last advice was that I shouldn’t refuse to enter Dreamland, just accept whatever this “second life” would offer me. I waved goodbye and closed the secret door just in time before the next client could see me.  
   
   
 **MATTHEW**  
   
 I arrived at Dr. Kirk’s with at least a quarter of hour to spare, so of course, I decided to take a walk around the neighbourhood. It’s so embarrassing that I always get everywhere earlier than necessary, like an old man. I go back at half past five sharp, but I hear muffled voices coming from Dr. Kirk’s office until they fade away. The door is opened and behind the psychologist I see another door being closed; it was probably the previous client.  
   
“Matthew Bellamy? Hello, I’m Dr. Thomas Kirk!” he says with an inviting smile.  
   
We shake hands and I state that his hold is pleasantly firm, neither too weak nor too strong. He’s taller than me and his kind, shiny black eyes inspire trust and friendliness. I feel a bit guilty, because Dr. Kirk looks so tired, yet he’s still trying to be a professional and treats me like the most important person in the world. Or maybe he’s just aware that Mr. John will be cross with him if I complain about his son-in-law, haha. I’m just joking; I know that Dr. Kirk is very good.  
   
“Dr. Kirk, thank you so much for having me during your overtime,” I thank him while I take a seat in the armchair.  
   
Weird, I always thought I’d have to lie down on a sofa. I guess movies misled me again…  
   
“Oh, come on, just call me Tom, I can’t be much older than you!” he says, opening his notebook and wiping his face.  
   
He’s clearly very tired, so I decide to tell him my strange stories as concisely as possible. I forewarn him about the unusual character of what he’s going to hear and I tell him that I wouldn’t believe it either if it wasn’t happening to me. He nods and encourages me to continue. If in the beginning, Dr. Kirk—sorry, Tom— had to force himself to concentrate on my story, now he’s leaned closer to me and his eyes are wide with curiosity and…something more, but I can’t decode what feelings he’s hiding.  
   
“So, doctor, do you think I’m completely nuts?” I ask laughing, but still a bit nervous.  
   
“No, not at all, I’m just…really amazed by your dreams. I had a client today who also had interesting dreams and I’m kind of jealous of you two! These dreams must be fascinating!” he exclaims, biting his lower lip.  
   
“Yes, they are, I’m just…afraid,” I mumble, blushing and fidgeting with my coat’s zipper.  
   
“Afraid? Of what, Matthew?”  
   
It’s time to open my heart; therefore I’m very glad that Tom is so friendly because I couldn’t talk about these fears to anybody else: “I’m just scared that this whole dream universe, including Dominic, is a creation of my mind. What if because of the years of loneliness I had to endure, my brain made up an idyllic world together with my idyllic companion. Or, even if we accept that he is a real being, what if he lives on another planet? I’m not even willing to think what if we live in completely different galaxies.”  
   
To my greatest surprise, Tom is laughing. Not at me, but at the impossibility of what I’ve just said. It’s like…he knows something that I don’t. Those coal eyes of his are shining mysteriously and he smiles fatherly, as to lull my suspicions. But there is no trace of meanness in him, so I tell myself that I imagined everything.  
   
“Matthew, you surely know that we only dream about people we’ve already met, even if you can’t remember them consciously.”  
   
“I know, but I have such a great memory! Oh and…I don’t understand why our relationship is developing in _that_ direction,” I whisper embarrassedly. “I’ve never…”  
   
“Ah, I see. So you’re not homosexual?”  
   
“I don’t know. I’ve never liked any men before, but Dominic – if that is his real name – he has something irresistible. I’m so confused!”  
   
“Hmm, maybe these dreams represent the search for your true sexuality,” Tom states. He steps to his shelves, takes a book from there and expects me to talk further about this aspect.  
   
“You might be right, but you see, before having these dreams, I’ve never _ever_ doubted that I like women only. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against gay relationships, I’m just really shocked. Though I’m more and more convinced that gender doesn’t matter…”  
   
“Matthew, now I’m quite sure that the old Freud would connect your dreams with your sexuality.”  
   
“Pff, he connected everything with that! He’d say that according to my dreams, I’m the biggest pervert and I want to find a partner, whom I’d need for my sexual experiments!” Tom and I laugh heartily, and I notice that it’s quite late.  
   
“Tom, I’d better be going, it’s past six and I’m sure you can’t wait to get home. Thank you again for accepting this appointment,” I say thankfully, feeling so much better after my confession.  
   
“No worries, Matthew, I’m glad I met you! Please, do come back and tell me your progress, all right? I’m really interested in how will this evolve,” he answers and I see again that foxy look on his face.  
   
I tell myself that I’m just really tired and leave the office with a light heart. Just as Tom told me, I will close my rational side while dreaming and enjoy the new adventures as much as possible.


	6. The Silence of Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, listen to [Shostakovich's Second Waltz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7izigJc1C2Q) during the dream. You will find some pics of how I imagined their attire at the end of this chapter.

**DOMINIC**  
   
The discussion with Tom calmed my overdriven mind so much that I haven’t dreamed anything for three nights. In fact, I slept like a baby and honestly, from one point of view, it was great. I feel rested and able to face whatever real life has to offer.  
   
I woke up earlier this morning, so I decided to go on another path to the library. I’m crossing a park this way and it looks great; trees are already blooming and the sun is sometimes brave enough to peek out from behind clouds. As I anticipated, nature is coming back to life, though I still have to wear several layers of clothing and I’m grateful that I put my favourite chequered scarf around my neck.  
   
The smooth light filtering through the really delicate foliage envelops everything in a golden tint and I smile contentedly as I raise my eyes to the sky. I really missed sunshine during the long winter! Suddenly, I notice a familiar object in the middle of the park and hasten the pace. It’s a beautiful marble fountain and passers-by throw coins in it, hoping that their wishes will come true. It’s a very old tradition and I think every well is believed to have magical powers.  
   
I seek some change in my pockets, but before throwing it in the water I can’t stop my rational side from asking if it’s worth wasting it in this manner. I could buy my breakfast or even give it to a homeless person. This is not the Trevi fountain from Rome, nor one of those grand baroque creations, just a little well in my small hometown. Something tells me that I should do it, yet I am reluctant. I throw it in the air playfully, but the little piece of metal decides to escape from my hands. I watch as it rolls on its edge and stops at the feet of a little boy.  
   
I don’t know why, but I don’t even open my mouth to tell him to bring it back. However, the boy grabs it and despite my suspicions, he doesn’t run away with his easy prey. He steps up to me and hands it over willingly, looking at me with his innocent blue eyes.  
   
“Come on, Sir, wish for something!” he says cheerfully, and now that I can’t retreat anymore, I say my wish in my mind and watch as my coin sinks in the clear water.  
   
By the time I turn to the alley, the boy is gone. I don’t know if the frequency of mysterious events in my life has increased due to my unusual dreams, but they all seem to be part of a universe I can’t understand. Of course, my wish is very easy to guess: _I want to meet Matthew in real life as well_ _._  
   
   
**MATTHEW**  
   
“Mr. Bellamy? I’m sorry for disturbing you, but could you please sign these papers?”  
   
For the first time in my life, I’m glad that Mrs. Farlow is disturbing me. I’ve been thinking too much since I’ve been to see Thomas. I know that he said that Dominic is from our planet, but maybe he wouldn’t make such a statement if he knew that there are more than fifty billion galaxies in the universe. Fascinating, right? Moreover, imagine this is only five percent of the total, the five percent that is visible. A quarter is constituted by dark matter and the rest, seventy percent, is dark energy…who knows what’s beyond that. Sometimes, I feel that even thinking about the universe makes my head ache!  
   
Then there’s the problem of sexuality…I must admit it makes me nervous. I know it is not that important and we’re not living in the middle ages. But did you know homosexuality was considered a disease until 1973? I just have this theory that maybe we, humans, were at the beginning like shrimp: they are all born as males and only some of them become females at maturity. Maybe…maybe society shouldn’t teach us that if you’re a man, you automatically have to be attracted only to women.  
   
For a moment, I imagine the faces of my parents if I presented Dominic as my boyfriend and I have to giggle to myself. They are nice people and try to keep up with my pace, but sometimes I just feel like they are not my parents. Who knows, I might be right. Every day, twelve children are given to another mother, so it’s not that impossible. Maybe when I arrive home I should ask Mum’s opinion about gay marriage. Not that I’m thinking already about marrying, I’m just, you know, making inquiries. But more importantly, I hope I’ll dream something pleasant this night.  
   
   
**DOMINIC**  
   
Have you ever woken up with a song playing over and over in your head? It’s happened to me frequently and sometimes, it is very annoying because they are silly pop songs I heard on the radio, and for some unknown reason my mind snapped to them. However, this morning I’m not upset by the song; I even started humming, not only because it is a beautiful classical piece, but it also reminds me of the fantastic dream I had last night.  
   
I swear I could waltz on the streets, but I believe my broad grin is already conspicuous enough. Matthew and I sprang to a fabulous place again, although I’m not exactly sure what the dream meant, especially the end. Let me tell you what I remember…  
   
_I stood in front of the same fountain from the park, but the surroundings were different now: it was in a big, prosperous city. Curiously, I was a boy, not more than six or seven years old and I had a shining silver coin itching in my dirty hands. The blue-eyed boy, who I met that morning, stood in front of me and smiled through the trickling streams of water. I looked at my coin longingly, but I finally threw it in the water. As soon as the coin reached the bottom of the fountain, I suddenly found an ivory pearl bead in my left hand. My child self shrieked with surprise and before I could catch it, the pearl rolled away. I ran and ran, until I found myself in a familiar place, a legendary city which I only know from pictures:_ _Venice_ _._  
   
_I stepped into a black gondola and to my surprise, I was again a grownup. The unusual boat was floating smoothly on the emerald water, and although everything seemed peaceful, the streets were empty as if everybody was gone somewhere. Until then, I didn’t even shoot a glance at the boatman and when I finally did, my shock was great. The boatman was nobody else than Tom…he watched the horizon with his usual mysterious smile and only stopped paddling at a junction of canals where lots and lots of people stood, blocking our way._  
   
_Tom raised his hand to his hat as a goodbye sign and smiled; that meant that I had to continue my road alone. Only then did I notice that all those people were wearing costumes, carnival costumes, in the brightest colours possible. As soon as I approached them, the group parted in two. At first, I was stepping carefully while curious looks followed all my movements and some people even bowed and smiled which encouraged me to advance more confidently. I beheld Matthew a moment later, even though he was also wearing a costume._  
   
_I wanted to gasp, but I was also wearing a mask, so I hoped that the appreciative twinkle in my eyes would be enough to express my admiration. Matthew had on a beautiful, traditional mask – around his eyes there was a silver, lace-like pattern decorated by crystals. His cerulean eyes were peeping out shyly through the slits and matched perfectly the deep blue, long feathers which surrounded his entire mask, lending Matthew a commanding presence. His attire was so elegant that I couldn’t even find the words to describe it. He had a navy costume sewn with silver thread and a royal blue cloak to add a touch of mystery to his already superb appearance._  
   
“Earth to Dominic!”   
   
“What?!” I wake up from reliving my dream and look with hazy eyes at Morgan.  
   
“The boss wants to talk to you. It’s something about the book fair, no worries!” he adds quickly after a shadow of bewilderment darkens my face.  
   
I get up, arrange my shirt, and with sturdy steps, I head to my boss’ office. I’m afraid I have to leave my daydreaming for later.  
   
   
**MATTHEW**  
   
Well, I deserve the title of “Muzzy Matthew” today. I’ve been so distracted that I almost stepped outside in my pyjamas and it was too early to leave anyway. Luckily, Mum stopped me before I fell into discredit in front of all my neighbours. Then I put salt in my coffee and spat the awful swill almost in the entire kitchen, so I ran to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, hoping that it would help me to collect myself. This is why I need to have complete control over my mind, otherwise my thoughts just spread in hundreds of directions. I think I need to meet Thomas soon to help put together the possible meanings of my dream, but here’s the basic plot.  
   
_I found myself on a little pedestal and two men were dressing me up in a masquerade costume. I didn’t even have time to object to it because in the next moment, I was on a street. A banner with the inscription “_ Carnevale di Venezia _” was stretched between two buildings. I felt my stomach jump nervously, but I followed the crowd, until the people were suddenly aware of my presence. They turned, some even smiling slyly, and then I realised what was the cause of them letting me enter in the middle of the crowd._  
   
_Dominic was standing at the other end, looking as surprised by the setting and people as me. He was also wearing a costume; in fact he looked like a walking flame! He was the embodiment of majesty with his attire made of vivid red velvet, seamed with gold. However, when he started walking towards me, I couldn’t take my eyes off his feet, clad in white stockings. What was even more interesting was that Dominic’s black buckle shoes were stepping on water!!! I guess everything can happen in dreams, right? I should get used to it, but it won’t be easy for such a pragmatic man as myself._  
   
_The air was suddenly filled by the delicate accords of a waltz which became ever louder as Dominic finally stood in front of me. The gold and red mask – a true masterpiece if you ask me – was in perfect contrast with his expressive, greenish eyes. I especially liked the rhombus pattern and that the lips were painted golden, as if they were the most precious possession of Dominic. I felt his right hand on my waist; therefore I automatically placed mine on his shoulder. Our free hands joined and only then did I notice that I was also wearing white gloves._  
   
_If you ask me how it felt to waltz with Dominic on the water, I can only say that it was like sliding gracefully. While making pirouettes, I saw the people around us doing the same, at least that’s what I deduced from the moving splashes of colours. For some weird reason, I couldn’t have a word with Dominic, although I tried really hard. I think he had the same problem and he tried to communicate with his eyes, but I couldn’t stand too much his piercing look._  
   
_I know I sound like a schoolgirl, but I couldn’t help it, so I either watched my shoes or the buildings, looking for possible hiding places for the orchestra, which performed the waltz flawlessly. It was light, playful, coquettish; in a word seductive…I’m sure the music had a mesmerizing effect on me, otherwise I would have never dared to do such a thing, but I leaned in as if to kiss Dominic. My dancing partner did the same and I closed my eyes, eager to feel soft lips on mine. How foolish of me!_  
   
_Instead, our porcelain masks clashed and the whole dream fell apart…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are the pictures!
> 
> [Dom's mask](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/thekeyholder/28688687/83387/83387_original.jpg) and [his costume](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/thekeyholder/28688687/84058/84058_original.jpg)
> 
> [Matt's mask](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/thekeyholder/28688687/83109/83109_original.jpg) [his costume](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/thekeyholder/28688687/83746/83746_original.jpg) and
> 
>  
> 
> [his cloak (guy on the left, but without the lace](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/thekeyholder/28688687/83641/83641_original.jpg)
> 
> Some explanations:
> 
> PEARL – particularly poignant, they represent hidden beauty. It can also mean that love may be found in the most unlikely places and with a person the dreamer would not readily consider  
> WATER – precursor of good fortune; emotions  
> MASK – concealing, the dreamer wishes to hide elements of themselves  
> FOUNTAIN, WELL – magical; healing and wish fulfilment


	7. An End Has a Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by the Editors song with the same name.

**DOMINIC**  
   
“But why couldn’t we kiss?! Why did the stupid dream end there?!” I huff and flap my thighs with frustration, waiting for an intelligent reply from Tom.  
   
“Because you had your masks on,” the psychologist says automatically, definitely thinking about something different.  
   
I need my full self-control not to throw something at him or slap him in the face. I really expected an intelligent and direct answer? I should know already that Tom avoids telling me his suspicions until he’s one hundred percent sure.  
   
“I bloody know that, Tom! I meant, what could it mean? You’re the psychologist, help me decode my muddled dreams!”  
   
“Well, I’m not sure, but I think it could be…wait, no, maybe it’s stupid,” Tom stops and looks at me apologetically.  
   
“Oh, come on, you always have good ideas,” I nudge him to finally hear some possible reasons, anything.  
   
My mind is buzzing, so I can’t follow any one train of thought until its end, because in the next second I think about something else and so on. I’d end up pondering over getting a dog to be less lonely and such.  
   
“Well, let’s start from the beginning. The setting might not be that crucial, it’s just to create this magical atmosphere,” Tom pinches the bridge of his nose as he gathers his thoughts. “Think about it, Dominic…why do people wear costumes? I mean, what was the original idea behind it in the old times?”  
   
“Umm, to hide from something?” I ask, a bit clueless.  
   
“Exactly. You two did the same – you hid behind masks and tried to show your best sides by wearing beautiful costumes. Moreover, the waltz is one of the most elegant and graceful dances, a great opportunity to become the object of admiration of someone.”  
   
“Oh, come on, it sounds like we we’re showing off and trying to sell ourselves!” I exclaim, upset.  
   
“In a way, you were,” Tom replies calmly, ignoring my protest. “It’s not something to be ashamed of; after all, I thought it was clear that you’re trying to win each other’s heart.”  
   
I nod, but I cannot stop a blush from tinting my cheeks. Dear God, why did you make my life this complicated?! Anyway, I should be thankful for the excitement, shouldn’t I? Then I remember a particular detail of my dream and decide to ask about it, glad that I can change the awkward topic:  
   
“Tom, I was wondering what dancing on the water means…”  
   
“Hmm, yes, that was one of the most intriguing parts, right? Well, water usually means emotions, spirituality and to be on top of them, I think it means that you want full control over them.”  
   
“Aha, that would make sense, Tom. Even more for Matthew, he’s that ‘I-only-believe-what-I-see’ kind of guy.”  
   
“Yeah, I know,” Tom giggles and rolls his eyes, which makes me look at him with confusion.  
   
“What do you mean, you know?!”  
   
Tom wipes his forehead and mumbles: “I meant from what you told me he’s that typical pragmatic guy…”  
   
“I hope you’re not hiding anything from me, Tom,” I say and look in his eyes seriously. “We’ve known each other for years.”  
   
“I’m aware of that,” he replies and I see his mouth moving, as if he would like to add something, but he can’t utter the words.  
   
Finally, he brushes off and laughs about my concern. Something about his behaviour is not right, but maybe I’m just paranoid. Like I said, weird things have happened since this whole dreaming affair began.  
   
“Look, Dominic, you have to be very sincere from now on. Be yourself; you don’t need masks and other silly accessories to make somebody like you. Besides, I don’t think Matthew needs that much persuasion…” The last sentence was accompanied by a smirk and I can’t help it, but blush again. “Here’s some homework for you to boost your self-confidence: write down your negative qualities on a piece of paper and then burn it away, imagining all the bad things disappearing from your personality. What remains is the Dominic Howard everybody likes, who’s all smiles and cheers up even the saddest person on earth in a couple of seconds.”  
   
“Is today ‘Make Dominic blush day’?” I laugh and rub my face awkwardly, as if I could make the redness disappear. Luckily, I have to leave now. “Thanks for saying that, but I’m far from what you described me, Tom. Sorry to disappoint.”  
   
“Start the list with low self-esteem, okay?” Tom giggles and he gets up to lead me to the exit. “Oh, and another homework assignment: try to remember where you met Matthew for the first time, in real life, I mean. It might be relevant.”  
   
I put on my sunglasses and answer him half-heartedly: “I’ve already thought about this for hours and no results. Would be cool if you had the possibility to ask Matt, he seems to have a better memory than me.”  
   
“Yeah, I will,” Tom replies and slaps his forehead afterward. “Oh, I mean I would. If I knew him, I would. But I have no idea who he is, so we’ll just have to rely on your dreams and memory.”  
   
“Tom, are you sure that you’re okay? Don’t you work too much?” I ask, worried about Tom’s mental state. He does look quite pale as well…  
   
“Of course, I just can’t really focus today. Now, go and don’t forget about your homework!”  
   
   
 **MATTHEW**  
   
Unfortunately, I didn’t have any time to go to Tom because of my brother, so I just called him, and besides the explanation of the dream, he told me to make an effort to try to remember where Dominic and I met the first time. I told him that I’ve already done it on numerous occasions, but he insisted that I do it again. He advised me to invoke the events of this last year and visit again, if possible, the places where I’ve been to and that this might help in remembering where we met or had a glimpse of each other. Tom thinks that our meeting was short, but it needed to continue and that’s why we’re dreaming about each other. I asked him how I could remember “the fatal glimpse” as ironically as I could, but even though he has no idea, Tom believes that I will succeed. Don’t ask me why he places so much confidence in me…  
   
But back to my big brother…well, he derailed my plans.  
   
 He called us a few days ago, saying that he would come with his family today and Mum is making preparations since then. Seriously, you can’t get her out from the kitchen. It’s crazy! She’s crazy for making such a fuss over this. I may sound a bit jealous, but it’s an open secret that Paul is my parents’ favourite son. He’s normal and _like them_ , you know? He was a good child and an excellent sportsman; he has hazel eyes like them and a straight nose, not like the ugliness that sits on the middle of my face. In short, he’s the perfect Bellamy progeny, the _perfect child of my parents_. His only flaw might be that he has an imperfect little brother. As about his current state, Paul met his wife at uni, they got married when both finished their studies and they also have a son, Horatio.  
   
Just mentioning my nephew makes me smile gloatingly, because you see, the “perfection” kind of breaks there. At least in my family’s eyes, but not in mine…Just like me, little Horatio is the black sheep of the family. Okay, not exactly black, because that role’s been given to me, but a grey one. You might wonder why and I will tell you. Please, imagine a smirk on my face while I do so. The little guy is seven years old and is already probably smarter than his parents. He’s a true child prodigy. No problem so far, but he is not exactly good at socialising. Horatio fears strangers and locks himself in his own world; he could spend a day by a window and watching the world outside.  
   
Though they are not saying this aloud, Paul and his wife, Abby, think he has a problem. In my opinion, the kid only needs companions who understand him. It would be great if he could go to a school where people treat him normally and the children’s level of intelligence is above normal, but that costs. Apparently, I am the only person Horatio mentions besides his parents and he can recall every moment we spent together. If I can, I always take him to science exhibitions and similar events when he’s at our place. We meet like once a month because they live a bit farther from us.  
   
As I hear a car’s engine stopping in front of our house, I go to the door and Mum almost shoves me aside, she’s hurrying so much. Of course, she hugs her son first, not her grandson, like normal grandmas do, so the little boy runs directly to me. He puts his thin arms around my neck; I lift and hug him tightly. I notice Abby looking disapprovingly at us and Paul frowning, muttering something like, “he never lets us to hug him”. Mum invites us in the kitchen and enumerates the delicacies she’s prepared for her favourite, but Paul and Abby stop her, saying with broad smiles that they have some news.  
   
I have a slight hunch of what might follow and my eyes drop to Abby’s belly. Yeah, it seems bigger than I remember it and my theory proves right: the pair announces that they’re expecting a baby and thought that it would be great if they spent some time alone before the baby arrives. I was right, Mum prepared the food in vain because these two are going to the seaside and leave Horatio in our care for a few days. I look at Horatio and I wink at him, trying to cheer him up. I’m afraid his parents are already ignoring him and the little one isn’t even born yet. At least I have some days to make his life more cheerful.  
   
“Do not worry, we’ll have fun, right, Horatio?”  I say and pat the boy’s shoulder who finally sketches a smile.  
   
After Paul and Abby leave, we have dinner and watch a documentary on Discovery Channel before I tuck Horatio in and press a goodnight kiss on his forehead. I think I’ll take him to the zoo tomorrow because every kid likes animals and he has so much to learn there. I’m not sure what we’ll do in the rest of his spring holiday, but I’m sure we’ll find something interesting.


	8. Horatio

**DOMINIC**  
  
I’ve been really busy these days helping to organize the annual book fair that the library and a publishing house have been doing for five years. It needs much more preparation this year because we changed the location – we had to, actually, but that’s not my point now – and we’ve all had to give a hand to ensure that this time everything goes well.  
  
On the other hand, I did the exercise Tom recommended to me yesterday…do you want to know what I put on the negative list? Well, I guess Tom was right and I do have a low self-esteem, so I put it on, as well as fear to do things, prejudice, sometimes unmotivated, indecisive, stubborn, lazy, vain and so on. I won’t reveal all because I don’t want you to lose your faith in me and anyway, you can find them out throughout my story.  
  
So, back to the book fair…this year’s theme is psychology. Of course, that doesn’t mean that we’ll only be selling psychology books; I’m going to sell novels and poetry books in a little stall in one of the corners. It will be an interesting and eventful week, so I think that by the time I get home I will be so exhausted that I won’t dream of anything. What a shame that I won’t meet Matthew for another week! I hope he won’t be upset…  
  
  
 **MATTHEW**  
  
Horatio saw an advertisement for the book fair yesterday and we decided to go there today after doing some grocery shopping for Mum. I don’t think we’ll stay long because this year’s theme is psychology, although they sell all kinds of books there. Last year, we were much more involved because the theme was science and our university contributed to the advertising and even organization of the fair. Maybe I’ll find a good book there about dreams; who knows. There’s a thought lingering in my mind that Dominic would be there since he’s such a big lover of books, but this event lasts for several days and I know that I’m not that lucky to bump into him.  
  
As always, things turn out differently than I expected. I meet with Mr. John at the first book stall and he starts talking about all kinds of things. Horatio stays quiet for the first five minutes, but he gets bored of it, so he pulls on the sleeve of my jacket. I ruffle his hair and tell him to go around and have a look. I wish I could go with him, but Mr. John is determined to kill me with his boring speech. After twenty or thirty minutes, Horatio returns with a book in his hand and tells me that he’s hungry and asks if we can go home, so I have a good excuse to flee from Mr. John.  
  
  
 **DOMINIC**  
  
This third day of the book fair isn’t different from the others: masses of people are rolling on, sometimes stopping at a book stall if they see something interesting. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately?), my stand is quite invisible and I rarely talk to anyone. I love observing things around me but I get bored after a while, so I decide to re-arrange the columns of books. While doing so, my hand slips on a glossy cover and the top book falls down. I put the others on the table to get the missing novel, but I find that somebody has already picked it up.  
  
A little boy, not older than six or seven, hands me the book I was looking for and says, “Here, sir.”  
  
“Oh, thank you. It wanted to escape from here,” I smile and look which novel was so rebellious.  
  
 _Of course. It’s Crime and Punishment._  
  
“Is it a good one?” the boy asks curiously. “I saw it on my uncle’s nightstand as well.”  
  
“Yes, yes, it’s an amazing novel. Your uncle has good taste, then,” I say and wink.  
  
To my biggest surprise the boy says naturally: “Maybe I should read it, then.”  
  
“No, no, if you listen to me, you’ll wait a few years. It’s a serious novel and you need to understand it in order to fully appreciate its greatness. You seem like a very intelligent boy, but I promise that it’s better if you wait. By the way, what’s your name?”  
  
“My name is Horatio,” the boy says shyly and extends his right arm.  
  
“I’m Dominic. Wow, you have an interesting name!”  
   
“Yeah, that’s what my uncle says as well, but sometimes, at school, it feels like a curse,” Horatio mumbles and casts his eyes down.  
  
I decide to cheer him up and make him proud of his unique name: “Oh, don’t listen to mean schoolmates! Next time they start mocking you, tell them that your name appears in one of Shakespeare’s best tragedies.”  
  
“Really?!” his bluish eyes light up.  
  
“Yes, it appears in Hamlet. Let me search it and then you can see it with your own eyes,” I reply and go to the box marked with the letter ‘S’.  
  
I hand him the book with a smile; the image of Horatio leafing through the book with such eagerness produces a really heartwarming feeling in me. I wish every kid would love reading as much as he does. He squeals when he finds his name in the book and reads for a minute.  
  
“Horatio, I’d like you to have this book,” I offer on impulse.  
  
“Oh, really? How much does it cost? I’ll go back to Uncle Matt and ask him for money for it.”  
  
“No need for that. Take it as a gift from me. A little encouragement from me,” I answer, but my mind is still lingering on what Horatio’s just said.  
  
Uncle Matt? Wouldn’t it be funny if he was talking about _my_ Matthew? I mean the Matthew from my dreams because practically, he’s not mine (yet). I look at the boy’s features more closely: dark hair, pale complexion, bluish eyes…Horatio could be related to Matt, but I’ll never find that out…  
  
“Dominic, would you sign the book?”  
  
“Horatio, you know very well that I didn’t write it,” I protest, dumbfounded.  
  
“I know, but could you please dedicate it to me? So I have a memory of you? Please, Dominic? Please?”  
  
Well, Horatio must be the cutest boy I’ve ever seen. How could I refuse his wish? I must admit that I wouldn’t mind to be his uncle…  
  
“Okay, here’s what I’ll do: I will write a nice quote for you. Deal?”  
  
“Deal!” Horatio replies and I look for a pen.  
  
I know exactly what to write, even though the little guy won’t understand it. Hopefully, he’ll read the book in a few years and smile when he finds my note.  
  
“Here it is. I hope you’ll enjoy the book when you’ll be older.”  
  
“Thank you, Dominic! I think I’ll go now; I hope my uncle is finished talking by now,” Horatio says as he cranes his neck, probably looking for his Uncle Matt.  
  
“Sure, go before he starts worrying. Bye, Horatio, it was nice to meet you!”  
  
“I’m sure we’ll meet some time, Dominic. Bye!”  
  
Well, I wasn’t right: this day was interesting; it was brightened by this little guy. I hope his Uncle Matt takes good care of him…  
  
  
 **MATTHEW**  
  
When we’re on the train home, I ask Horatio to show me the book he got. It’s Shakespeare’s Hamlet and my nephew couldn’t be happier that one of the characters has the same name as he. He’s also gushing about the guy who gave him the book:  
  
“Look, Dominic even dedicated the book!”  
  
“Dominic?” I ask with wide eyes.  
  
No, there could be so many guys named Dominic…  
  
“Yes, a blonde, very kind man. A bit taller than you, Uncle Matt,” Horatio informs me.  
  
Okay, I’m sure there are many kind, blonde Dominics out there…I open the book.  
  
 _But there is only one with this handwriting._ I’ve seen before it, if only for a second, but I’ve seen it. I feel blood leave my cheeks.  
  
“Uncle Matt, are you all right? You’re so pale!”  
  
Poor Horatio, he has no idea who he met! “Yes, pumpkin, I’m fine.”  
  
When I have recollected myself, I finally read Dominic’s note:  
  
 _"There is more in heaven and earth, Horatio, than is dreamt of in our philosophy."  
Take care and never forget that books are always there for you!_  
  
 _Dominic_  
  
My God, I think I just fell even more for this guy…the way Horatio talks about him and this note…I wonder if he knows that we missed meeting again. I don’t think he does, otherwise he would have come to me, wouldn’t he? I guess it wasn’t the right time…which is quite ironic considering that the name Horatio means time, hour. Honestly, my patience is wearing thin, but I know that Dominic is worth the wait.


	9. Wishes in the Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part which contains the dream based on the element AIR. Listen to the song [Fly Away by Alexander Veljanov](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PK7MQ0BdG3A) while reading. :)

** DOMINIC **

With a steaming cup of tea in my hand, I contemplate the city, which is about to wake up from its slumber. From above, I watch the first workers as they hurry to factories and I notice that they are morose and tired, smiling long forgotten in their morning ritual. I feel like a scientist monitoring an alien species, placidly accepting the facts I’m discovering. 

People forgot dreaming; they forgot to live the life they should be living. Now, when they look at the sky, they think about the satellites that make their modern living easier, ignoring the stars that still shine mysteriously, as they did hundreds of light years before as well. Now, if they are looking at their “friends”, they see an opportunity to climb higher on the social ladder. I wonder what they see when they look at their “lover”…an accessory with which to show off? A substitute for the emptiness which should be filled with real feelings? An object to fulfill their superficial needs?

It’s sad, but we forgot to dream.

** MATTHEW **

You know those days when everything you start doing ends in catastrophe? Or, when everything goes amiss? This day is one of those. I woke up and on my way to the bathroom I accidentally kicked the leg of a cabinet. Well, the awful pain definitely woke me up and the bruise was visible in a few minutes on my pale skin. Then, I cut myself while shaving and so on. I almost missed the train, too. I feel bad for leaving Horatio at home, but I have to work. He was sleeping so peacefully when I entered his room this morning!

I put back the book he got from Dominic on his nightstand and watched him for a minute. Yes, I borrowed _Hamlet_ for a bit, just to look at the curvy letters and bury my nose in it, imagining that besides the smell of paper, Dominic’s musky perfume was lingering, too. I know it sounds crazy, but just imagining that his fingers touched that book makes me feel closer to him. At the same time, it also causes me pain that we missed each other, as if this unfortunate twist of events burnt a hole in the middle of my heart. I’m talking nonsense; it must be a muscle contraction. 

Luckily, I have lots of paperwork to do and it keeps my mind busy to some extent, and I’m only interrupted by some remarks from Mr. John.

“Good thing that they changed the location for the book fair, right?” he asks. “After last year’s catastrophe…”

I nod in agreement. You see, the book fair was held in a huge tent last year and an unexpected, disastrous storm ruined it. I remember that I was talking with some professors when Mr. John interrupted, saying he wanted to present one of the main organizers from the library, but it never happened since right in that moment lightning struck a tree beside the tent. A bright flash, a blonde head turning away…hang on… 

Mr. John gets ready to leave for a conference and while putting on his coat, he tells me:

“Shame that you couldn’t stay longer yesterday; that young man who helped in the organization last year was there too. Oh well, there’s always a next time!” he lifts his hand as he exits the office cheerfully, leaving me gasping for air.

_ The book fair last year _ . That’s where I saw Dominic; the book fair! That stupid storm had to start right then. Oh, destiny, you cruel thing! In my mind, I replay that scene with the lightning and Dominic turning his head, his eyes stopping for a millisecond on my face before turning away…I wish there were more details I could remember, but all I can recall is that blurry scene. Okay, I need a tea break or I’ll end up stabbing myself with a pen. 

** DOMINIC **

I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel uncomfortable. There’s a ball of nervousness in my stomach, a dark feeling as if something bad is going to happen. I really have no idea why, though; everything is fine in the library and I felt okay all day. Maybe it’s not me. I should call Mum and check if everything is all right with her. Maybe I am too stressed with work; I should try meditation.

** MATTHEW **

I wasn’t good for anything after I realised where I saw Dominic for the first time and all the opportunities I missed since. Just imagine if Mr. John had presented him last year at the book fair…we would have chatted about our favourite books all day and we would have exchanged phone numbers. We’d meet on different occasions and we’d have lunch together, both of us attracted to the other…and then maybe I’d invite Dom to the cinema or to a nice play, and after that we’d go for a walk and I’d show him stars and constellations, their soft light reflected in his big eyes and our lips would finally be united.  

Again, I’m staring blankly at my computer screen, making up impossible scenarios in my mind and cutting my heart into pieces. Why do we like to hurt ourselves? I don’t know; it must be human nature. I continue doing nothing for another hour until I finally go home . I walk dispiritedly in the streets, my legs heavy. I just feel so tired and want to lie down and cry over my misery. No, that’s not exactly what I want, but that’s all I can get.

What I want is impossible…warm fingers caressing my hair, fingers belonging to the man with the most beautiful smile in the world…a hug and then a kiss on my forehead, promising a brighter tomorrow. I get on the train automatically and I try to turn off my brain, but it’s not that easy. I mean, I have been voluntarily forcing it to come up with theories and try to solve the mysteries of the universe, but those do not affect my heart. Emotions, however…I think that’s why I shun the matters of the heart; I just don’t know how to handle them. 

I finally arrive home, place the keys in the bowl beside the door, and I kind of expect Horatio to run towards me, but instead, a distressing silence is dominating the house.

“Mum?” I call out, but no answer comes.

I go directly to Horatio’s room, but he’s not there, nor are his things.

“Hi, Matt. I didn’t hear you coming,” Mum says from the threshold, stifling a yawn.

She was probably napping.

“Mum, where’s Horatio?” I ask, the bad feeling still persisting.

“Oh, I thought you talked with your brother. They came back earlier and took him home,” she says with genuine surprise while all my hope vanishes.

I sit down on the bed and hide my face in my hands.

“I’m sorry, dear. I wanted to tell you, but Paul said he’d do it later. He called me at around ten o’clock and they arrived here less than an hour later. We barely had time to pack Horatio’s things.” She sits beside me and puts her hand on my back. “Don’t be so sad, Matthew, you can visit them on the weekend.” 

I nod, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I know. I just had a hard day, Mum.”

“I’ll prepare you some dinner and you can go to bed early, if you want to.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Mum,” I mumble and follow her to the kitchen.

* * * * *

After dinner and some chitchat with Mum, I can finally retreat to my room. I have the urge to slam the door, but I’m not a teenager anymore. I remember that as a teenager, I always wreaked my anger on my stuff and yelled, but right now I don’t feel that kind of anger; anyway, now I wouldn’t react so impetuously. I change into my pyjamas and crawl into my bed, knowing well what will follow.

The dull pain slowly changes into something really unpleasant when disappointment joins in, too. After the realisation about Dom and last year’s book fair, I just wanted to get home and hug Horatio, but my dear brother took away my only consolation! I couldn’t even say goodbye to him. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this down. Did you know even pain has its measure? It’s called a dol and you measure it with a dolorimeter. I know it measures external pain, but I don’t doubt that this pressure in my chest is any less real.

I let my tears flow freely, something that I’d normally never allow. I try to be strong every day and keep a brave face, but it’s getting harder and harder. I wish there was someone beside me who would offer me a hug in difficult times and who’d assure me that everything will be fine. I bet people think I’m an insensitive workaholic, but believe me, appearances can be deceiving. For example, did you know that lemons contain more sugar than oranges? Or that the Hundred Years’ War actually lasted 116 years? So, don’t judge by appearances. I’m a weak man, the weakest of all, and I will cry myself to sleep.

** DOMINIC **

The bad feeling persists and I don’t know its cause. I light two white candles and an incense stick to help me calm my nerves and fall into a deep meditative state. A breath in, a breath out and my pulse slows down naturally. The world around me fades away into a translucent greyness until I can only hear a faint buzz in my ears and then my mind is clear.

_ From above, I watch Matthew walking on a street. Suddenly, he falls into an abyss that wasn’t there before. The scene is repeated after a while and I realise I’m in Matt’s dream and he’s just had one of those unpleasant moments when you wake up from sleep as if you just fell from a high place. He must be really stressed because his dream is about to happen again, but I somehow manage to be there in the next moment and catch him by his left arm before he falls. _

_ “You must be more careful, Matthew.” I look at him empathetically and smile. _

_ “You’re here…you caught me,” he breathes heavily. “Thanks, I really hate this kind of dreams; it feels as if my soul would have suddenly fallen down, back in my body.” _

_ “Well, maybe that’s what happens. But I’m here now and I think you need a relaxing dream. You seem so tense and you also look sad,” I state as I look in Matthew’s tired eyes, the brilliant blue now faded into a greyish tone. _

_ He sighs and prefers to keep his eyes on the road. “I had a very bad day,” he whispers finally, and I touch his face gently, hoping to bring him a bit of comfort. _

_ “Come on, I know a place you’d like,” I say cheerfully. _

_ I grab his hand and we’re in the air; it seems natural and logical. Until I hear Matthew snickering, of course. _

_ “Nice wings!” he says with a wink, unable to stop smirking. _

_ “What?!” I exclaim and that’s when I discover that the reason why we can fly is the huge pair of golden wings on my back. “Hey, watch your mouth! I think they’re pretty. Besides, don’t forget that if you get on my nerves, I might just drop you.” _

_ “Yes, Sir.” _

_ I squeeze Matt’s hand gently and he smiles. I’m admiring the sparkle that seems to have returned into his eyes when the sky darkens, making my companion’s stare even more intense. Nuances of purple and blue swirl on the infinite canvas of the sky, the lights of the city below us pulsating with orange. The view is so incredible and the breeze caressing my hair offers a pleasurable feeling. But most importantly, I am incredibly happy that I can share it with Matthew.  _

_ The next thing I remember is walking with Matt in an open field. The sun is shining and colourful sparkles seem to float in the air. My companion looks at me and I can hear Matt’s soft voice in my head, thanking me for cheering him up. I want to ask him so many questions, like what upset him, but my tongue is tied and I’m not able to form words. Suddenly, cards are falling from the sky, slightly floating in the lukewarm breeze. We’re both equally baffled, until Matthew reaches out and catches one of these cards. He looks at it and frowns.  _

_ “I believe this is a Tarot card,” he states and shows it to me. “The Knight of Swords. The knight kind of looks like you, Dom.” _

_ There’s a knight on a white horse with his sword extended on the card and I’d like to take a closer look, to see if the guy really looks like me, but Matt throws it away and runs a little farther, as if he noticed something. _

_ “Look, Dom, dandelions! I loved them so much as a child! It is said that if you wish for something while blowing away the seeds, your wish will come true!” Matt says enthusiastically and picks one of the flowers. “Amazing plants, they can thrive under the most adverse conditions.”  _

_ I must admit that I, too, liked to blow away dandelions as a child, but my fascination with them is nowhere near as great as Matt’s. He takes my hand, looks deeply in my eyes and I watch his lips forming an ‘O’, the air coming from his lungs launching the dandelion seeds. They float around us, carrying the sweetness of Matt’s wishes with them, letting the wind decide their fate. May they arrive on fertile grounds! _

I wake up from the weird trance. Even though the vision felt quite long, I don’t think it actually lasted more than a minute. Nevertheless, I hope Matt feels better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the [Knight of Sword](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_P739wL-lrq8/TAZ38_dFJBI/AAAAAAAAEgs/D3xG21iINtc/s1600/Llewellyn+Tarot+Knight+of+Swords+001.jpg) Tarot card. I chose this card because apparently, the element air is associated with swords in Tarot.


	10. Delirious Fire

** MATTHEW **

This morning I wake up feeling much better after the horrible thing that yesterday was. Maybe it wasn’t that bad, but small, unpleasant things can easily ruin your day. That’s why it would be nice to become an astronaut – due to lack of gravity, they can’t cry in space. I replace my frown with a tentative smile; after all it takes only seventeen muscles to smile and forty-three to frown.

All I can think about while going to work is that I owe my smile and good mood to Dominic and I wonder how I could thank him for not letting me wail in my bed for weeks. I’m about to enter a café when an old woman stops me:

“Can you spare a minute for me? You seem like a nice young man.”

“How can I help you?” I ask, surprised.

“Choose a card,” she whispers and takes out a deck of cards from her coat’s pocket, spreading it as much as she can.

I look around with confusion, the other passers-by ignoring me and the old woman.

“All right, but I don’t believe in it and I won’t pay you for the divination!” I warn the woman, but she just smiles at my words.

The cards are pushed forward and I choose one from the middle. I take it out from the deck and frown. It really shouldn’t come as a surprise, not after everything that’s happened lately.

“The Knight of Swords,” the lady says with a mysterious smile. “I could have sworn it would choose you.”

“What do you mean? I chose the card with my own hand!” I protest.

“You still have a lot to learn, young man. The card chooses the person – your energy attracts it, calls it out from the deck. You do know who represents this figure, right?”

I nod, feeling my cheeks blush slightly.

“You can see that the knight is on horseback and rides against a windstorm – your windstorms. He’s fearless and nothing can stop him. He will never give up; he’s raising the sword even higher. The sword represents ideas, thoughts.”

“What kind of ideas?” I ask.

“Let’s find out. Pull another card,” the old lady says and takes out the deck once again.

“The Knight of Cups,” I read the card and hand it back to the lady who’s smirking rather irritatingly. Share your knowledge already, woman!

“Whenever two Court Cards appear in a reading together, one is most definitely you and the other is another prominent person in your life. In this situation the Knight of Cups brings out a surprise ‘I love you’ from that other person.”

For a moment I just stand there staring at the pavement. When I look up the old woman is gone, and the Knight of Swords card is resting in my pocket.

I think I will get an Irish coffee this time instead of my usual espresso.

** DOMINIC **

Come on, pick it up. Pick it up.

“Hi, Dom! Got any news?” Tom asks with evident excitement even through the phone.

“Yes. I was wondering if I could come to your office this afternoon?” I ask hopefully.

“Sure thing! Do you have time after four o’clock?”

“I’ll be there. Bye, Tom.”

Tom asked me to let him know as soon as possible if a new dream appears and I’d also like to hear what he thinks about it. I’d just like time to go by faster, because four o’clock is still so far away.

* * * * *

“Aw, that’s such a cute dream!” Tom cries out while stuffing his mouth with the sandwich I brought for him.

“Cute?!” I exclaim, horrified.

“Yes, you know. Matt didn’t feel well and he probably wanted you to be there beside him and then you boom! somehow miraculously slipped into his dream while you were still awake and you comforted him and held his hand and was your sweet self. Nice case of telepathy.”

“Tom, he was really not feeling well. If you’d seen how sad he was…”

“I’m pretty sure he felt better when he woke up this morning,” Tom says with a wink.

“I hope so. That flying in the air was pretty awesome,” I sigh nostalgically.

“In the air…” Tom mumbles and his face lights up suddenly. “HAHA!”

“Hmm? What?” I ask, confused.

“The air! It was the most important element in your dream, right?”

I nod, but still don’t understand what he’s implying.

“Think about your dream in Venice! What was the most striking thing?” Tom asks me hurriedly.

“The dancing…on the water. Water…” I mumble and slowly realise what Tom’s just discovered. “As about the dream in Greece it was about earth, right?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Tom confirms, his black eyes shining even more than usual.

“So what follows is…”

“…fire.”

I gulp. “What should I expect from it?”

“Probably a fierce dream. Passionate. Heated.”

Tom is grinning knowingly and I feel butterflies in my stomach. Every dream with Matthew is amazing and this is supposed to be very good. Can I go to sleep already?

I get up and Tom is already reaching for his phone.

“An urgent call,” he mouths and I exit the office clueless.

** MATTHEW **

Tom calls me right in the moment when I decide to tell him the news.

“Hi, Tom! I was just about to call you!”

“Yes, I had a feeling that you had some progress last night.”

I tell him as many details as I can remember and then he tells me how he discovered that each dream represents an element and that according to this theory there is only one dream left.

“Oh,” I say rather stupidly, a bit disappointed and not knowing what to say.

“No, I didn’t mean it as the last time you see him. I think you will be able to finally meet each other,” Tom replies and fills my heart with hope.

“That would be so great,” I whisper and smile.

“Now, I trust in your composure. I know that after the ‘fire’ dream you’ll be running up and down to find each other, but please, give me a call and let me know what happens in it, okay?” Tom almost implores.

“Of course. Thanks for calling me! Bye, Tom!”

“Were you talking to my son-in-law?” Mr. John asks as he enters the office.

I nod smiling.

“I hope the smile means your issue with that girl is over?” he asks politely.

“Not really an issue, but it did bother me. Tom helped me a lot and I believe everything will be perfect soon,” I answer and return to my papers, aware that Mr. John is dying of curiosity, but I won’t say more to him.

* * * * *

After dinner, I call Paul and ask to speak to Horatio without further ado. My brother is still giving me the cold shoulder, so why should I be any different? However, my heart warms when Horatio greets me.

“Hello, Uncle Matt! I miss you so much!”

“Hi! I miss you too! You know why I called? I have a great plan!” I say excitedly.

“What plan?” he asks curiously.

“Well…I was thinking of spending the weekend together. We could go to the cinema, eat ice cream and do whatever you want.”

“Hurray! Will you come after me Saturday morning?”

“Sure. Oh, Horatio…would you mind if I bring a friend?” I ask nervously and bite my nails.

“No. But who is it?”

I blush, not knowing what to answer. “Erm…a good friend. You met him already and I think you liked him.”

“Who is it? Who is it?” he asks, jumping with the phone in his hand.

“It’ll be a surprise. I don’t know if he can come, but I really hope so,” I reply quietly.

“Tell him that I’m a nice boy. And if he’s your friend, he knows you’re awesome. If I were him, I wouldn’t miss a meeting with you,” he says innocently, unaware of how much I’m grinning right now.

“Thanks. See you in a few days, Horatio! Bye!”

“Bye, Uncle Matt!”

As always, I find it incredibly difficult to fall asleep knowing that this night, this dream, is important, probably the most important of them all. I must admit I also have high expectations for it. However, every previous thought and hope vanishes when I find myself in a hostile environment.

_ The first thing I notice is my parched mouth. God, I’m so thirsty! Then I look around and my eyes widen at the sight of sand dunes encircling me in a rather intimidating manner, stretching on to infinity. I’m wearing white, comfortable clothes and even a turban on my head to prevent my brain from boiling. Seriously, it’s so hot that it feels like inhaling fire. I do the only thing I can: climb the dune in front of me, hoping to find something or somebody on the other side. _

_ No luck. I walk in the hot sand for a long time until I see someone leaned against a rock. I speed up my tempo and sigh with relief when I realise that it’s Dom. He looks as tired and dehydrated as me, but greets me with a tight hug. _

_ “I thought you wouldn’t come anymore!” he whispers in my ear. _

_ “I’m sorry. I don’t know why, but I had to march a long way. What now?” I ask, confused. _

_ “We have two camels,” Dominic replies and points to the animals sitting peacefully in the shallow shadow of the rock. _

_ We both chuckle, but none of us comments anything on the ridiculousness of the situation. The next thing I remember is finding myself on the camel’s back, Dominic riding beside me. The Sun is setting before us, spilling its blood red rays on the arid waste. The dunes look like molten mounds of copper, our crimson shadows appearing elongated on the sand. The air is so heavy and suffocating, burning the skin of my cheeks and my eyes feel uncomfortably dry. Add to this the steady rhythm of the camel, quite maddening, and you understand how easily we fell in delirium. _

_ “Well, I had completely different expectations of the ‘fire’ dream,” Dominic says and I agree. _

_ “Did you think we would dance tango or flamenco?” I ask laughing. _

_ “That would have been much, much better! I don’t think I can go long, Matthew. My mouth feels as if it’s filled with sand. At the next rock or something, just let me lay down and go on without me,” Dominic says shakily. _

_ “Not on your life! Look, we need to rely on each other if we want to survive. I won’t leave you alone in the middle of the desert!” I cry out, pretending to be stronger than I really am. _

_ I guide my camel closer to Dom’s and take his left hand in mine. Dominic smiles gratefully. _

_ After a while he asks: “What…what happens if we die in our dreams? Will something happen in real life too? Or does it mean we ‘finished’ this dream life and that’s it? We won’t meet again?” _

_ “I don’t know, Dom. I really don’t know.” _

_ I squeeze his hand fondly as we’re riding towards the setting Sun, determined to rather wake us up both before anything bad happens. _


	11. I'll Be Waiting for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must admit that even just reposting this story here made me a bit emotional - now, almost 4 year later, I would change some things about it, but at the same time I am proud of what my younger self created. Hope you all enjoyed this ride.
> 
> This story also has a banner and since I forgot to post it with the first chapter, I'm doing it now. Many thanks to my friend Myth for it. :)

** DOMINIC **

_ Next time I see Tom, I’ll beat him up. I’m serious. He let me think that this last dream would be something magnificent! Instead, we’re dying. Or something similar, but we’re not resisting much. I can barely sit on my camel – I’m leaned forward and hugging the animal's long neck. Every inhalation is torture, but I tell myself that I must resist. I open my eyes, just narrowly, and if I’m not wrong there’s something glistening in the distance! _

_ “Matt, I think there’s some water in front of us! Maybe it’s an oasis,” I exclaim with raspy voice. _

_ He squeezes my hand excitedly. “I think I can see it too! I really hope it’s not a mirage!” _

_ It’s our last hope, we both know it. The camels are floundering and I encourage mine with kind words and strokes. The idyll grows bigger and bigger – the small lake is surrounded by verdant palm trees, swaying subtly in the evening breeze. We get off the camels in the last metres and run hand in hand to the lake, dropping to our knees. The water is clear and delicious and we laugh while bringing it to our mouths. The camels arrive too and stick their tongues in the water lazily. I think they would have carried on without problems for days. _

_ After appeasing my thirst, I splash a little water on my face and when I open my eyes Matthew is looking at me. _

_ “Do you feel better now?” he asks quietly and I nod. _

_ He comes closer and presses his cool hands on my cheeks and then down to the side of my neck while I just close my eyes and sigh with satisfaction. The faint sound is captured by his lips, slowly sealing mine and once again reminding me how much I wanted this. I put my hands around his neck and bring him closer, opening my mouth at the same time. Our kiss lasts long and spreads fire in my whole body, yet when we part I feel refreshed. _

_ Matthew smiles and undoes his turban, looking at the lake and then at me questioningly. A dip in the pure waters would be perfect, so I grin back at him and take off my sandals. However, when Matthew tests the water with his hand, its surface starts whirling and we flinch, watching it with wide eyes. _

_ Suddenly, the water shows us random images: Matthew sitting in a café and I peer at him from outside. He jumps up in surprise and topples down his cup which is filled with fire. The fire covers everything, even me. _

_ “This was the first dream!” we both shout in recognition. _

_ The water then shows us children running with balloons and an old men with a silver umbrella walking past a bench where I’m sitting, close to the well where I once threw in a coin and wished that I’d meet Matt in reality. I look at my wristwatch and it’s almost ten o’clock when I look up to see Matthew rushing towards me. _

_ “Do you know where this park is?” I ask Matt. _

_ He nods. “Tomorrow, ten o’clock.” _

_ “Great, I’ll be waiting for you.” _

_ Matthew leans in and presses a last kiss on my mouth. I know he’ll be there. _

** MATTHEW **

I wake up with a start and search for my phone. I really hope I’m not late, oh my Newton, I really don’t want to be late from our first meeting! It’s 7:50. Great, I have time for everything: a nice shower and a relatively calm breakfast – okay, not really: there’s a storm inside my stomach. The really difficult part is choosing an outfit. Should I dress in jeans? That’s not really my style. I think I’ll settle for my dark blue suit. Which shirt would go better? Hmm. Dom seems to have a better fashion sense than I do, so even more the reason to impress him.

“I’d go with the white shirt,” mum says as she peeks into my room.

“The white one it is then,” I say and put the pale blue shirt back in the wardrobe.

“Trying to impress somebody?” Mum asks with a knowing smile.

I wonder if there’s any point in denying it. Probably not. “I met someone.”

“I’m so happy for you!” Mum says enthusiastically as she opens the window. “Is it your first date?”

I hesitate. “Kind of…but we’ve known each other for some time.”

“What’s her name?”

“Um…his name’s Dominic,” I say and bite my lower lip anxiously.

“Oh…I didn’t know you…” Mum says, confused, and gesticulates with her hands.

“Neither did I!” I exclaim and grin at Mum’s even more surprised expression.

* * * * *

I remember my promise to Tom and call him as soon as I leave the house.

“Good morning, Matt! How are you?”

He’s speaking to me as slyly as if I had intercourse last night.

“Nervous. By the way, the last dream wasn’t that great,” I say reproachfully, as if Tom promised us pink perfect dreams. “We almost died in a desert!”

“But you didn’t, so don’t sulk like a little boy! Also, I guess you got a clue where to meet?” Tom changes the subject smoothly.

“Yes, yes, at ten o’clock. I’m placing my faith in chance…I think I’m going to pass out!”

“Now, now, you’re not allowed to do that until you meet Dominic. Everything will be fine, Matthew, you’ll see.”

I breathe in deeply. “Yes, I know. Thanks, Tom. You’re the best!”

** DOMINIC **

I check myself for the hundredth time in the mirror. Damn that hair in the back, why is it standing up? I want to look perfect! Is that a pimple on my forehead? Why today?! I arrange my hair so that it covers it and I finally step out of my apartment. Saying that I am excited is an understatement. I even run a bit, even though I arrive earlier. Good thing that I opted for my leather jacket, because a cool morning greets me today.

I sit down on the bench that appeared in that vision and look in every direction. Calm down, Dom, it’s just 9:45. A pleasant fragrance lingers in the air and I get up and walk around to waste some time. It’s 9:57 and I return to my bench. Suddenly, some children run in front of me with balloons. A minute later I notice the old man with the silver umbrella. He’s very close, I can feel him. I look at my wristwatch and it’s ten o’clock.

I can see the silhouette of a man in the distance and I’m quite sure it’s him, so I start running and he does the same. We meet at halfway and stop slowly, smiling shyly, still not believing that after so many weeks we meet in real life too. I reach out and touch his face with my trembling hand. We lean in and even though technically this is not our first kiss, it’s even more magical than the one we shared in the last dream.

Matthew puts one of his hands on my nape, the other one in my hair and I can feel his warm, familiar perfume. My tongue urges his mouth to open and my hands roam on his back, clutching at his coat tightly, jolts of pleasure running through my body. The world is spinning and my head feels dizzy, but this is the best feeling in the world.

Someone whistles at us and when I look away I see it’s a guy on a skateboard who winks at us. We smile at each other and I press a short kiss on Matthew’s lips. He hugs me tightly, taking me by surprise, but my hands soon encircle his waist and I put my cheek on his neck, surprised by the hot skin I find there. I inhale deeply that wonderful scent of his which makes me giddy and hug him even more tightly in the hope of remembering this moment forever.

We let each other go and stand there awkwardly, neither of us sure what to do next. Finally, Matt extends his hand and says: “I believe we haven’t met properly yet. My name is Matthew Bellamy.”

I chuckle and shake his hand saying: “I’m Dominic Howard.”

“Very pleased to meet you. Dominic, would you join me for a coffee?”

“It would be my pleasure,” I say and flutter my eyelashes seductively.

Matthew leans in for a small kiss (feels good to be the taller guy at last!) and we stroll through the park arm in arm as if we’d known each other for years.

I think Matthew agrees with me that neither of us expected this to happen. Meeting in dreams, actually going on dates in the most exotic places…wow. I couldn’t have wished for anything better. I’m astonished and grateful and incredibly happy that I finally found my someone special.


End file.
